


Vultures Eat for Free on Sundays

by LynchAdam



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Character Death, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Drug Use, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Original Character Death(s), Out of Character, Parent/Child Incest, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Sorry Not Sorry, Substance Abuse, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-01-30 11:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 42,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21427393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynchAdam/pseuds/LynchAdam
Summary: Ronan Lynch is running from a dark past and fills the time by getting high with his friends. Things change for him when Joseph Kavinsky arrives in town.
Relationships: Declan Lynch & Ronan Lynch, Jiang/Joseph Kavinsky, Jiang/Joseph Kavinsky/Prokopenko/Skov/Swan, Joseph Kavinsky/Ronan Lynch, Proko/Ronan lynch, Richard Gansey III/Ronan Lynch, Ronan Lynch & Adam Parrish, Skov/Swan (Raven Cycle)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	1. Ronan, Interrupted

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is literally the product of three months of boredom during summer and is my first published work. Read all of the tags before reading this to ensure that it is the right fic with you, as it deals with heavy themes. This is out of character lmao and has minor-mentions of other raven cycle characters throughout the fic. Also, I read this about a hundred times, but there are probably still errors, I'm human. Uh so yeah enjoy it or send death threats to me via comment.

Ronan Lynch takes his time to light up the blunt, and Proko is particularly anxious to take a hit. They’re in his basement, surrounded by discarded liquor bottles, and the stale air reeks of gasoline, sex, and sweat. Porn is playing on the theatre screen behind the two, with their shadows offering the only degree of modesty. Proko is a byproduct of his imagination, and not in a looney bin type of manner. Lynch is a dreamer, and he dreams up new challenges for himself and composes nightmares that would make a demon balk. Proko is one of his most rewarding dream objects, if only for his excellence at giving head. As he passes Proko the blunt, he watches the pair of lips wrap around the seal, and the cheekbones illuminating through the inhalation. Freckles danced across the boy’s face and Ronan traces the constellations with his thumb. 

“Ronan?”

“Hm?,” he takes the blunt and inhales, making eye contact with Proko.

“You ever think about you and me?”

“What about us, shithead?”

“Like maybe we could be more.”

Ronan cackles at this and watches Proko’s cheeks catch fire. “No, Proko. We can’t.”

“Why the hell not?” 

“Because you’re a moron.” He’s been irritated with Proko lately, the boy insisting for more than Ronan is willing or able to give. 

Proko grabs the blunt dangling from his fingertips and takes such a long inhalation, Ronan waits for him to choke. The smoke is held and then offered up to the basement’s ceiling as a penance. “Fuck you, Lynch.”

“You wish.” Ronan gets up now and heads to the bar for a shot of vodka. There are footsteps above, and he hears the clamoring of excitable teenage boys entering his lair. Skov, Swan, and Jiang are now sinking into seats. Jiang grabs the blunt from Proko and inhales it. Skov slinks up to Ronan, dangerously close, and leans forward to grab the bottle of Jack Daniels. Ronan sneers and takes a long swig of vodka, while Skov throws back the whiskey. The frantic beat of an obscene rap song floods the basement surround system, muffling the porn. He is glad for it, never cared much for porn, though he would never admit that aloud. 

“What are we doing tonight, Lynch?”

“I figured we could blow up your cars, see how many sparks emerge.” 

“Funny man, you’re not touching my car. I just bought it.” Swan can be such a bitch some nights. 

“Fine, be a pussy Swan. You are what you eat, after all.” 

“Jealous, Lynch?”

“Hardly.” He waits for a snide remark, but Swan is now downing a Budweiser, over the conversation. 

Ronan makes his way upstairs, dreading the first day of classes tomorrow. He hears the chaos and fighting occurring below him and once again longs for solitude his home usually offers. He thinks about Richard Gansey, always flanked by the elusive Adam Parrish, the two rule the school. Ronan allows this because he figures someone has to handle the day, while the nighttime remains his kingdom. Gansey pisses him off beyond belief with such a polished exterior, begging for another of his mother’s campaigns, so he can play the role of a puppet. Many nights he lies awake, wondering how it would feel to smash the boy’s nose in. Other nights he lies awake, wondering how it would feel to kiss his collarbone, and hating himself for the thought. Grabbing his car keys, he slams the door shut behind him and slips into the driver’s seat of the BMW. Rubber burns and he accidentally rams Proko’s Supra as it’s thrown into first gear and his foot is heavy on the gas pedal. He reverses, leaving the damaged Supra behind and tears down the road. 

-

The sun glints off the line of cars as Ronan and his boys arrive at Aglionby Academy, leaning against the door of his BMW, he lights up a cigarette. Gansey and Adam are getting out of the garish orange Camaro he drives around, avoiding eye contact. He ambles over, stopping just short of Gansey’s face, and blows the smoke directly into the boy’s face. He watches Gansey cough, and Adam is staring at Ronan’s hand. Weirdo. 

“Hey Dick, how was your summer?”

“Best three months ever, considering I didn’t have to see your face.” 

“Ouch,” Ronan’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, “that hurt my feelings.” He tosses the lit cigarette carelessly across the parking lot. Hoping it starts a brush fire, but is disappointed after a few seconds when the gray ash falls in a neat pile.

He hears his boys coming up behind him, but his attention now makes a beeline for a new kid walking up the lot. White sunglasses adorn his face, and a thin gold chain rests around his neck. The kid is beautiful with a straight nose, adorned with a nose ring, and rich dark hair. A dangerous smirk is spreading across his face, as he walks over to them. Tattoos creep underneath the uniform, and Ronan wants to see them. He wonders where he’s seen the boy before, maybe over the summer at a party.

“Who is that, Proko?” 

“We just got here, I don’t fucking know.” Must still be sensitive from last night, stupid bitch. 

“What’s up?,” the boy nods at Ronan, clearly identifying him as the leader, “Name is Kavinsky. You?”

“Lynch.” 

“Where are you from?” Kavinsky’s head turns lazily to Jiang, even though Skov was the one who asked. 

“New Jersey.” 

Gansey and Adam are shifting uncomfortably, waiting for Ronan to announce their freedom. Ronan tears his attention away from the diamond stud in Kavinsky’s right ear, and back to Gansey.

“We’re not going to have any problems, are we Gansey?”

“If you ever shut your mouth, there wouldn’t be any, Ronan.” Ronan puts his hand up to stop Swan from swinging at Gansey. Kavinsky laughs softly in the background.

He leans in close again to Gansey’s face, keeping his light blue eyes aligned with the hazel eyes staring back. “Watch your attitude, Richard. Wouldn’t want you to have an accident, and mar your chance of being a poster boy this semester.”

“Leave us alone Ronan.”

“I don’t remember telling you to open up your mouth, Parrish. Let your Daddy speak.” The boys laugh in the back, and Adam’s cheeks flush. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Lynch?” 

“Your mom’s bed, Dick.” 

“Real classy, as always.” Gansey’s lips fall into a flat line, and his eyebrows draw together in anger. “Your retorts get weaker each time.” 

“Your mouth could be put to some better use, Gansey. Care to join me in the bathroom?” He smirks, and Gansey spits in his face. It lands on his right cheek, and he feels the saliva slide down to his chin, leaving a trail of spit. Proko emits a sharp inhale in tune with Adam, and everyone waits tensely for Ronan’s response. Kavinsky still lingers on the side, watching the show. 

Ronan slams his fist into Gansey’s right eye, and grabs his tie before he falls, pulling him forward. “My offer still stands, sweetheart.” 

He lets Gansey go without warning, causing his footing to tangle up, and fall backward. Adam helps him up. Ronan and the rest file into school, looking for other sources of entertainment. 

Kavinsky grabs his arm, and he falls behind the pack. 

“What?”

“I’m looking for someone to run with, and I think the two of us would get along.” 

“I think so too, Pretty Boy.” Kavinsky smiles, revealing several gold teeth. “No one gets a free ride, so what will you bring to the table?” He inhales sharply as fingers brush over his fly, and Kavinsky leans in close. 

“I could give you a ride, Lynch. Or whatever,” the fingers trail up to his hip now, “you want.” 

“Follow me.” He makes the way toward the boy’s bathroom, Kavinsky in tow. “Get out,” he sneers at a boy using the urinal. The bathroom empties, fear in the underclassmen’s eyes. After the last kid leaves, he slams Kavinsky against the stall wall. Kavinsky undoes his pants, and slides down out of his grasp, kneeling in front of Ronan. 

“Is this what you want, Lynch?” 

Ronan moans as Kavinsky’s lips are wrapped around his dick, uncaring for a response. Kavinsky is better than Proko at teasing, taking his time to lick up and down his shaft. When he finally takes Ronan, his mouth swallows his entire length. Ronan moans in ecstasy, rocking his hips forward. Unceremoniously, he grabs a fistful of hair and fucks Kavinsky’s mouth, feeling the fingers gripping his hips. When he cums, Kavinsky swallows and Ronan groans in pleasure. Kavinsky gets up, while Ronan is zipping up his pants, and bites Ronan’s neck. 

“Fuck,” he hisses at the brute force of the bite. Kavinsky sucks at the bite, causing a deep violet hickey to appear. Satisfied, he pulls back from Ronan’s neck and leaves the bathroom. 

How the hell did he just get a blowjob, yet Kavinsky was the only one walking away with power? Damn it. He redoes his pants, ambling to the sink to wash his face, and when he looks up Gansey is using a urinal. 

“Miss me, already?” 

“Always, Lynch.” His eye is almost as dark as the hickey Kavinsky left behind. “A little basic getting a hickey before second period, hm?” 

“Shut the hell up.” 

“Get your new pal to sleep with you already?”

“I would love to spend some time with you too, Gansey. Threesome? You and your boy toy.” 

“No, Ronan. I don’t think so.”

With that Gansey finishes washing his hands, and leaves the bathroom looking perfect, even with the black eye. Maybe even more because of the black eye. Ronan punches the mirror in anger, shattering the glass, and finally leaves the bathroom himself. When he catches up with his boys, Kavinsky is there too, apparently considering himself a member.

“Kavinsky, don’t get too comfortable. You still need to prove your value.”

“Why, of course, sir.” He can hear the mocking southern tilt to his accent, and Kavinsky laughs at Ronan’s anger. “How about this Ronan? I’ll help you win your little crush, and then we’re square.”

“Who the fuck are you talking about, Kavinsky?”

“Gansey boy, from the parking lot earlier. I’ve never seen such a bold declaration of love as when your fist connected with his eye.”

“He is not my crush,” snarling, he pins Kavinsky against someone’s locker. 

“Hm, this scene is familiar, shall we commence as usual?” Fingers brush against his crotch, and the boys around them start laughing. Ronan pulls away from Kavinsky, and an arm wraps around his shoulder. “What do you say, Lynch?” 

“Whatever.”

“Oh good, I like a challenge.” 

At lunch, he and his pack clamor to their usual table, small fights already ensuing. Gansey and Adam are sitting at their usual table, surrounded by boys perpetually kissing Gansey’s ass. Henry Cheng is there, practically shifting onto Gansey’s lap. Ronan is seething.

“Need some help, bae?” Kavinsky is smirking, eyes following Ronan to the display. Kavinsky doesn’t wait for the answer, heading over, and Ronan follows, ignoring Swan’s inquiry of where the two are going.

Kavinsky pushes two boys from the edge of the table, patting the seat in an indication for him to sit down. When he does, Gansey is looking at the two, raising an eyebrow to question why they are sitting here. Henry looks irritated at the loss of attention, and Adam stares at Ronan. Kavinsky slides his shades up, and Ronan sees the dark gray irises, devoid of emotion. Creepy. Other boys at the table shift in their seats uncomfortable as well. Gansey continues to make eye contact, refusing to break. 

Kavinsky leans in, smiling, and shifts his glance to Adam. “So, I see you two make a lovely couple. Do you always fight his battles, Gansey?” 

“Fuck you, Kavinsky.”

“Top or bottom, wait let me guess. You’re a top. He’s a bottom.” 

“And you’re a bottom too, right Kavinsky?” A long throaty laugh leaves his throat and Gansey starts to look uncomfortable now too.

“No, Gansey. I’m not a damn chick. You know who would make a _ great _ power bottom for you though?” 

“Enlighten me,” Gansey is the one smirking now, looking at Ronan. 

He feels Kavinsky’s hand slap his back, and his face burns crimson in humiliation. Kavinsky cackles and Gansey chuckles softly. Ronan is pissed, and he makes eye contact with Adam. There’s sympathy in his light green eyes, and he notices the freckles adorning his cheeks, mirroring Proko. Were those always present?

“See, he doesn’t deny it, Gansey. What do you say, want to go on a date with Lynch here? He’s pining for you, and you’ll have no trouble getting into his pants.” 

What the fuck? Kavinsky is a complete asshole, he’s not even trying -

“Well, since you asked so nicely, one date won’t hurt. Where do you want to go then, Ronan?”

He isn’t sure which person at the table is reacting the most shocked at the question, and Kavinsky slides his shades back on, whispering in his left ear that he owes him one. 

“Nino’s?” Gansey’s favorite restaurant, though Italian food is not his own preference.

“You’ve done your research, I’m impressed, Ronan. I’ll meet you there tonight at 7 unless you’re too busy?”

“No.”

“Okay, then I suppose you both can run along, back to your table.” 

They get up and head back to their table, Kavinsky’s arm around his shoulders. When they get over to the table, Jiang high fives Kavinsky. Proko looks miserable, staring at his iPhone, probably to avoid Ronan. Swan and Skov are mocking Adam’s southern drawl, God knows why.

He feels someone taps his shoulder and glances behind him to see Adam. Skov and Swan stop mocking him, suddenly interested in their phones.

“What?” He intimidates Adam, and he watches the boy flinch at the curt tone. 

“You forgot your phone,” it’s extended to him, and he takes it.

“Thanks, you can run back to your master now.” Skov and Swan snicker and Adam keeps standing there. “Earth to space boy, I said to run along.” 

“What are you planning to do with Gansey, Lynch?” 

“Hopefully get laid, if that’s alright with you, dollface.” Adam scrunches his nose at the endearment, Jiang snickering in the background.

“He’s better than you, Ronan.” 

“What the fuck did you say to me, twit?” Ronan stands up, towering over Adam and he backs up with wide eyes. “Go back to Gansey, before you get hurt.” His eyes narrow.

“Punch me, then see if you can still keep your date, Ronan. I call the shots, not you. Who do you think Gansey will back up?” Ronan wants to knock the stupid smirk off Adam’s face, but punches the table instead, cracking the cheap material. Adam walks away, and the boys at the table are laughing. 

“Shut up,” Ronan screams and everyone falls silent immediately. Gansey’s table is glancing over their way because of the outburst. Kavinsky winks at Gansey, and he earns a smile in return. Adam smiles at Ronan, without a trace of friendliness, and waves tauntingly. Skov makes kissing noises at Ronan and he punches him in the stomach, hearing the soft whimper after impact. 

-

When he pulls up to Nino’s, it’s 6:50, and he’s waiting for the Camaro to pull up. He’s half-expecting Gansey to stand him up and is checking his outfit for the thousandth time when Gansey knocks on the window startling him. He rolls it down. 

“Hey.” 

“You look good, Lynch. Ready to go in, now?”

How long was Gansey there? He runs the pad of his thumb over his index finger, attempting to compose himself before answering.

“Uh, yeah.” When he gets out of the car, he hits his head on the top of the door, and Gansey laughs. Not in a mean way though, which Ronan guesses is a good thing. 

“You alright?”

“Just nervous.”

“Ronan Lynch is nervous? God, I never thought I’d see the day!” Ronan fiddles with the leather bands adorning his right wrist, staring intently at each band, to avoid Gansey’s face.

When they get in, Gansey heads over to the booth he and Adam sit at normally. The waitress has spiky black hair, clipped in a variety of styles, and she’s classically pretty. Gansey knows her and talks to her for a few minutes. Ronan looks at the menu, trying to figure out what to order, without seeming stupid again.

“This is Ronan Lynch. Ronan, this is Blue.” 

He looks up, and she has a friendly smile, but the corners don’t meet her eyes. “Hi, Blue. Cool name.” 

“Thanks, it was my idea.”

Ronan snorts, and she smiles more genuinely now. “How do you know Gansey?”

“Oh, he comes here all the time, I have no idea how he stays in shape eating all of this junk.”

“Funny, Jane.” 

“Gansey, I told you to stop calling me Jane!,” she turns to Ronan, “What drink would you like?”

“Water.” 

“Alright, Gansey do you want Fanta or Sprite?” 

“I’ll get water too.” 

“Hopefully you can stick around, and teach him better habits, Ronan.” She walks away, chuckling at her joke, to get the drinks. 

“What are you thinking of getting, Ronan?” Gansey places a mint leaf in his mouth, and Ronan watches the plant melt onto the pink tongue.

“What?” 

“What are you ordering?” 

“Oh, um, I, um -” How humiliating, jeez. -“A slice of pizza, I guess.” 

Gansey raises his eyebrow, probably thinking he’s a fucking moron.

“You really are nervous, aren’t you Ronan?”

“I really like you, ok? And this is my first date.” 

Gansey laughs. “Really, your first date?” 

“Yes.” 

Blue comes back with the waters and places them on the coasters. “Sorry, Jimmy kept blabbering. Did you decide?” 

“Yeah, we’ll just get a 14-inch pizza.” 

“Any toppings?” Gansey looks at Ronan, waiting for him to respond.

“No, thanks,” Ronan says. He actually doesn’t think he’ll be capable of eating one slice at this rate, despite the hunger gnawing at his stomach. He ignores the sensation, taking a sip of his water.

Blue walks away. Ronan feels really dumb, and he kind of has to pee again. 

“I’ll be right back.” He gets up and heads to the bathroom, urinating, and washing his hands. He tries to throw up, but a thick mixture of saliva, blood, and bile are the only contents in the toilet. He splashes his face twice with cold water, and the redness fades slightly. By the time he comes over, the pizza is on the table and Gansey is eating a slice. 

He slides back in, and Gansey looks up, putting the slice down. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he gets the spatula to put a slice on his plate but his hands are shaking too much to be useful. Gansey tries to grab it to help, and Ronan knocks his glass of water by accident. It flows over the table, while the glass shatters on the ground, and Blue comes over with a rag and broom. Ronan wants to slam his head into the table repeatedly. 

“I’m sorry, Blue.”

“It’s okay, dude. Shit happens.” When she’s done cleaning off the table and sweeping the floor, she heads off to grab him new water. 

“Ronan, are you ok?” 

“Yes.” Tears pinprick at the corners of his eyes, much to his dismay. What a horrible fucking date he is.

“Do you want to go see a movie instead?” 

“No, this is fine.” Like he wants to spill popcorn all over their laps. 

“Alright,” Gansey puts a slice on Ronan’s plate now. Blue comes back with another glass. 

“Thanks.” 

“Sure.” 

He cuts up the slice and eats it, and Gansey moves on to another one. They eat in silence, Ronan yelling at himself the entire time. When the two finish the slices, Gansey gestures to ask if he wants another and he nods. 

“So Ronan,” Gansey slides the pizza onto his plate, “tell me something about yourself. Besides that, you like punching me.”

Ronan chokes on his water, and he coughs a few times. “Sorry about that.”

“You should be, I had to buy cover-up looking like a domestic violence victim for our date tonight.” 

Ronan laughs, and so does Gansey. He feels better now that Gansey lightened the mood. 

“I go to Aglionby Academy.” Gansey laughs.

“Me too.” He’s never felt so dumb in his life. He works on cutting this slice into tiny squares, a blush creeping onto his face. So much for cooling off in the bathroom.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I even said that.” 

“Because you’re nervous, it’s okay. Here, what’s your favorite movie?” 

“Fight Club.” 

“I’ve been meaning to watch that one. What do you like about it the most?”

“Brad Pitt is naked in a scene, for one,” Gansey laughs. His laugh reminds Ronan of Declan, sincere and warm. “But mainly I like how the main character has to figure his shit out. He doesn’t even know at first, and he kind of sucks at things.” He really thinks the ending is the best part but doesn’t want to spoil the movie. 

“Got it.” 

“What’s yours?” 

“It’s A Wonderful Life.”

“I haven’t seen that, what is it about?” 

“A lot like Fight Club according to you, but without Brad Pitt’s nudity.” 

“We should watch them both.” 

“We can do that, next time.” 

Next time? There’s a next time?

“Okay.” He doesn’t know what else to say. “You live in that factory right?”

“Yes, Monmouth.”

“Does Adam live with you?” 

“Uh, no just my friend Noah. He’s not really around much, so it’s more like living alone.” 

“I live alone too,” he hopes that doesn’t make him sound pathetic, “but I can never be lonely since someone is always around.” 

“Yeah, your pals are always around you. That Kavinsky is a character, isn’t he?” 

“Yeah, I almost strangled him earlier.” Gansey laughs again. It’s beautiful. 

“Do you want to see Monmouth?” 

“Uh, yeah sure.” 

Gansey pays the check and leaves Blue a large tip. He follows Gansey back to the warehouse, and it looks dilapidated. Gansey makes his way to the second floor, unlocking the door, and he walks in behind him.

“Noah? You home?” 

No answer. There’s a king-size bed under a large bay window and a desk against the wall. The desk is littered with newspaper articles and school assignments, a potted mint plant. In the center of the room is a miniature scale model of Henrietta. The bathroom houses the washing machine and dryer, and the refrigerator. There’s a large bedroom to the left, that appears untouched, and he wonders how anyone lives in it with a thick layer of dust settling over the room. The kitchen has a stove, a microwave, and three counters, not much else.

Gansey looks at Ronan, “I guess it’s not much to see.” 

“I like it,” Ronan looks back at Gansey. “So did you take me here to play monopoly?” 

Gansey laughs and Ronan smiles. “Wouldn’t be much fun with only two people, Lynch.”

“You know what is fun with two people?” Gansey blushes for the first time tonight. “Baking cookies.” Gansey laughs so hard he snorts, and Ronan laughs too the tension easing.

Ronan stands there awkwardly, not really sure what to do with his hands, as Gansey sets his keys and watch on his desk. He turns back to Ronan, and his eyes fixate on his lips. Ronan blushes, flustered and worried Gansey might kiss him. 

Gansey leans in, cupping his face, “Can I kiss you, Ronan?” 

“Yes,” and Gansey’s lips are on his. The world around him fades away, and he falls into the kiss, kissing back hard with not as much skill. Gansey pulls away and smiles. Ronan hopes he doesn’t -

“Was that your first kiss?” 

He bites his lip. “Yeah.” 

“Well, how was it?”

“Mind-blowing.” 

Gansey rolls his eyes, “No need to dramatize, Ronan.” 

“I’m not, I guess it’s because I really like you.” 

“You’ve said that twice, I almost think you’re being sincere.” He smirks at Gansey. “You’re a lot different than I thought, Ronan.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“A good way.”

“Oh.”

“Have you liked me for a long time?”

“Since we met.”

“So harassing Adam and me for the past year, and repeatedly punching me was your method of flirting?”

“When you say it that way, I just feel stupid.” Gansey laughs. “I had to keep up my street cred is all.” Gansey laughs harder. 

“Yeah, I thought you would be more smooth at dinner.” 

“I figured you would make up for my inadequacy like always. You’re good at that.”

“I am.” 

“What do you want to do Gansey?”

“Want to help me paint these boxes for my town? Or is that too beneath you?” 

“I think I can stoop to your level for tonight.” He smiles so that Gansey takes it as a joke. Gansey sits down at the model town, and he sits across from him. 

They paint for four hours, and by the time they’re finished the model extends further toward the kitchen. He also knows a lot more about Gansey than he did before. It’s 1 AM, and he is exhausted so he doesn’t bother to check his phone for the slew of messages that will be flooding in by now. 

“Better head out, Gansey.” 

“Are you ok to drive? You look tired, Ronan.”

“I think so.” 

“You can stay here if you want to.” 

“You don’t mind?”

“No, or I wouldn’t have offered.”

“Okay.” 

Gansey goes to the bathroom to get in pajamas and Ronan strips to his briefs and t-shirt, climbing into the bed. When Gansey comes out, he wonders if he took the side he usually sleeps on by mistake, but Gansey just slips under the comforter without a word. 

When he wakes up, he is sprawled on top of Gansey and Gansey’s arms are around him. Heat creeps into his face, and he shifts over waking up Gansey. 

“Hey, Ronan.”

“Uh, hey.” Gansey looks at the alarm clock on the nightstand by the bed. He puts on his glasses and moans in exasperation.

“I have to pick up Adam in 20 minutes, shit,”

Gansey darts out of the bed and to the bathroom throwing off his pajamas to get in the shower. He takes time to appreciate the view. Ronan has to take a piss, but he waits until the boy is done. Gansey gets dressed and is halfway out the door.

“Sorry Ronan, can you just um let yourself out, here’s the key. Give it back to me at lunch?”

“Ok.” 

-

Gansey is out the door, and Ronan takes his time getting ready. He uses the towel next to Gansey’s, hoping it’s not Noah’s. When he’s ready, h

locks up and heads to his BMW. He drives to school, listening to electronica music, and arrives midway between third period. He waits in his car until lunch, getting out, and heading inside. 

“Where the fuck you been Lynch?”

“Did you get laid?”

“How was your date with Daddy?”

He hasn’t even sat when the onslaught of questions are pouring out of his boy’s mouths. The period bell rings and he watches Gansey and Adam walk into the cafeteria. They both stride over to his table and sit down. Gansey sits next to Ronan, forcing Proko to move down, much to his irritation. Kavinsky comes in late, sitting next to Adam, across from them. 

“Hey, Pretty Boy.” 

“Hey Kavinsky,” Adam is blushing. Ronan can’t think of a time the boy hasn’t blushed. Adam has a bruised eye, darker than Gansey’s. 

“Here’s your key,” Ronan turns to Gansey, handing him the key, but he immediately wishes he had waited. 

“You got a key made already, I’m a true fucking matchmaker!” 

“Shut up, Kavinsky. It’s not mine.” 

“Thanks, Ronan.” 

“You’re welcome.”

“So how _ was _ your date, Ronan?” Proko is not really interested, he just wants to put him on the spot. 

“Good.”

“Just good?” 

“What did you losers do all night?” 

“Must not have been that good, if he’s shifting the subject,” Kavinky taunts, “Have trouble getting it up, Lynch?” 

He grits his teeth in irritation, and the table laughs. Except for Gansey and Adam. He makes eye contact with Gansey, vulnerable, and Gansey touches the pad of his thumb to his bottom lip. 

“Kavinsky, you’re awfully worried about impotence, having some struggles of your own?” Skov and Swan holler in laughter, as Kavinsky’s face, turns red. Gansey smiles, and Ronan thinks he might be in love with him at the moment. 

Jiang slides in late, as usual, the reek of weed rolling off him in waves. “Lynch! Did you smooch lover boy last night?” Jiang winks after, apparently reading the truth on his face. “So you did. How was it?”

“Better than your mother, Jiang.” 

“Why of course, we all know you’d be more into my father anyway, Lynch.” 

He juts out his lower lip, eye twitching, Jiang’s waiting for the blow. Instead, he taps the table three times. Jiang turns to Gansey, refusing to back down.

“Rating out of 10. Would you smash again?” 

“I’d give him a 9. I would definitely smash again.” The table goes wild, not realizing Gansey was even capable of speaking like a teenage boy. Ronan looks at Gansey, wondering why he’s pretending they fucked, and Gansey winks at him. He realizes Gansey is protecting his cred and smiles in appreciation. “He’s awfully loud though, my roommate was bitching.” 

Kavinsky laughs so hard he watches him tip backward, dangerously hovering off the edge of his seat. Ronan holds Gansey’s hand under the table, and Adam smirks. 

“I told you he’d be a good bottom, Gansey.” 

“Well now that Lynch finally got a boyfriend, let’s move on to more important topics. Our party on Friday night.” Proko is slightly bitter, stressing the word boyfriend unnecessarily. “You coming, wonder twins?” 

“I work,” Adam always works. Ronan rolls his eyes.

“So, come after, Parrish.” 

“Maybe,” Adam trails off, non-committal.

“And you, Gansey? Coming to play King for your Queen?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it.” 

“I’m bringing the substances, you handle the booze, Lynch.” 

“Fine, K.”

“Are you two official? I would love to get a yearbook photo for the cutest couple.” 

Gansey looks at Ronan, and back to Kavinsky. “Yes, we’re official.” 

Proko sneers and Kavinsky lifts his shades, directly staring at Proko.

“No need to be jealous, Proko. I’m right here.” 

“Shut up, Kavinsky.”

Kavinsky leans close to Proko, until their faces are nearly touching, and people are murmuring around the cafeteria, salivating for a fight. “I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t remember your own name, Proko. Ask Ronan about my blowjob technique if you’re into that.” 

Gansey laughs, and Ronan clutches his hand tighter.

“Right Lynch? Oh! Tell me, was Gansey phenomenal in bed?” Now Kavinsky is back down in his seat, leaving Proko furious, staring at him with frigid eyes. Kavinsky is teasing, to see if Gansey lied. Fuck. 

“Best I’ve ever had.” Kavinsky wolf whistles and Proko slams his chair against the table in rage. Ronan startles. 

“You piece of fucking shit! I hope you choke on his dick.” He watches Proko storm out of the cafeteria, and the rest of the table is looking at Ronan.

“Whew boss, you going to let him talk to you like that?” Kavinsky loves stirring the pot, Ronan realizes for the first time. Swan, Jiang, and Skov are staring at Ronan waiting for him to react.

“Just leave the bitch alone, he’ll get over it.” 

“What? You two ex-boyfriend’s or some shit?” 

“Some shit. He’s just a cheap slut, you won’t have to try too hard to fuck him, Kavinsky.” 

“I’d hate to hear you talk about me behind my back, Ro.” 

“Shut it, Jiang. He’s the one who wanted to put on a show in the middle of lunch. You know I’m down for the rest of you. Proko’s merely outliving his use, unfortunately. Being unloyal.”

“So what are you doing about it, Ronan? You’ve got to lay it down, or he’ll keep acting up.” 

All eyes are on him. Ronan flicks through his phone, finding the dick pick he took of Proko when he was passed out. Gansey looks disapprovingly at the content, but he shows it to the boys. Kavinsky takes the phone out of his hands, and he regrets handing it over immediately. 

_Will fuck 4 blow call me at 484-239-0412, _written under the dick pic, is sent to his entire contact list. The cafeteria is buzzing around them, boys opening the text. Kavinsky is laughing and hands the phone back to Ronan.

“Are you fucking stupid, Kavinsky? Everyone can find out that’s from me.” 

“Relax, Lynch. I used a blocked number. Besides who’s he going to report us to, the fucking guidance counselor?” 

“That was fucked up, man.” Skov shifts uncomfortably. 

“You’re the one who told me to do something,” Ronan sneers, “Should have spoken up if you wanted a different punishment.” Gansey squeezes his hand, hard, and he looks at his phone.

_We need to talk._ From Gansey. Shit. 

“We’re leaving,” Ronan and Gansey get up, heading outside. He lights up a smoke, offering one to Gansey.

“I don’t smoke, Ronan. That was seriously messed up, I can’t believe you let him do that.”

“I had no idea Kavinksy was going to do that, okay?” 

“Look, I get that you want to seem hard or some shit, but sending nudes is seriously detrimental and illegal considering he’s 16. And showing it around the table was only encouraging a bad decision, Ronan.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ronan inhales a long drag.

“Don’t apologize to me, Ronan. But I’m really disappointed in you.” He might as well have been punched in the stomach, with the twisting of his guts at the statement. “You’re acting much different than last night.” 

“Look, I know, I - I don’t want to act like this. It’s just so much, fucking pressure man. I have this image -”

“Yeah, I know. You have this image of being a complete asshole, and want to live up to it. Well, guess what? You’re not very intimidating. And if I told your boys you spilled water all over the table from nerves, that I was your first kiss, and you cuddled with me instead of us fucking, how do you think it would go down?” 

“Are you threatening me, Gansey?”

“Simply putting you into a vulnerable position, like the photo you let Kavinsky send of Proko. Hopefully, you get the point?”

“Yes,” his face is on fire. 

“Good.” Gansey walks away. 

Proko comes barreling up and Ronan is genuinely terrified. “Fuck you, Lynch! A dick pic? When did you ev-? Never mind I don’t care. What’s wrong with you?” 

“I-”

“You _what_? I know it was you, bitter at getting told off?” 

“Look, I’m sorry, it was a mistake.”

“Your little mistake is going to fuck up my entire life, Ronan. What, you think just because you made me, you can tear me apart too? We’re done. Find yourself a new slave.” Proko slaps him and the echo bounces off the pillars surrounding the courtyard. A crowd gathers in his peripheral vision.

Proko leaves, already being taunted by the boys crowding around him asking when he’s available. Ronan keeps smoking, feeling extremely guilty, but also sorry for himself. It’s a gift.

He heads off to Latin, sitting down tentatively next to Gansey, unsure if he is allowed. Gansey ignores him, looking ahead. Shit. Adam slides in next to him, and he says hi.

“Hi, Ronan.” 

“Hey Lynch, is it true what’s written in the bathroom,” Some random boy taunts from the back of the room.

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“That you’re still a virgin.” His face heats up, and everyone laughs at him, except for Gansey and Adam. “Wow, so I guess it is.” He knows Proko wrote it and it’s not as if he’s in any position to be angry. 

“Settle down class,” Whelk enters the room in his usual bored tone. “Today we have a student teacher to observe the period.” A young man, with striking light blue eyes and a narrow, upturned nose enters the classroom. His smile is dangerous as if he could swallow you whole if you skirted too close to the edge, and his dark brown hair is closer to obsidian. “This is Mr. Greenmantle. He’ll be placed here for the remainder of our year.” 

“Ronan wants a piece of _that_,” Mike catcalls, and Ronan swivels around. 

“Shut up, before I knock your damn teeth out, Mayers.” 

Mayers mouths the word faggot, and Ronan starts to get up, but Gansey grabs his arm, shaking his head no. 

“Mr. Lynch, simmer down please.” 

“Yes boys, this is Latin class, not a boxing ring. Perhaps your friend is right, Lynch, is it worth the detention?” 

“You’re not even a real teacher, Greenmantle.” The class collectively gasps at his comment, and Greenmantle walks over slowly to his desk. 

“Is that so, Ronan?” Greenmantle says his name in a sneer, leaning in much closer than he thinks is allowed. “Well, even though I’m not a real teacher, you can turn in a four-page paper written in Latin about respect to me tomorrow. And you,” Greenmantle eyes Mike, “can write a four-page paper about tolerance. It’s not polite to use the word faggot, Michael.” 

Mike turns crimson, and Ronan follows suit, fiddling with his bracelets. Greenmantle walks back up to the front of the class. “Of course if that’s alright with you, Whelk?”

“Sure.” 

“Excellent.” 

Ronan doesn’t think the day could be any damn worse when Kavinsky bursts through the door. “Sorry I’m late,” even with the shades on, Ronan can tell he’s buzzed, “I had explosive diarrhea.” The class laughs, and Mr. Whelk sighs theatrically, Greenmantle laughing along with the students.

“Have a seat in front of Ronan, Kavinsky.” Kavinsky complies, turning around to pass Ronan a note under his desk, while the two carry on with the lesson. 

_ I bet proko wrote that little note about u. What should we do _

He writes back._ We’ve done enough, K. Just let him talk shit, he’s not with us anymore. Do you want to be my number 1? _

_ Above Daddy? How scandalous. _

_ Yes or no? _

_ Yes. _

Ronan doesn’t write back, keeping his eyes straight at the board but his mind anywhere else. Gansey glances over, his eyebrows crinkled and running the pad of his thumb along his bottom lip again. When Latin is over, Ronan decides he’s done with this day, heading out to his car. Gansey trails behind him, and taps on his shoulder when they arrive at the BMW.

-

“Come to rub it in my face?”

“Let’s go get something to eat.” 

“Fine.” 

“Meet me at Mary’s Ice Cream Parlor.”

“You skip classes often, President Gansey?” 

“I’m worried about you, Ronan. Since we’re dating.” 

“We went on one date, we’re not married. Besides I thought you broke up with me after lunch.”

“Just meet me there,” Gansey lets out an exasperated sigh and walks to the Camaro across the lot. Ronan gets in his BMW, gunning it to Main Street. Gansey parks next to him, and holds his hand on the way in, not saying a word. 

“Two, please.” 

They sit in a booth, but this time, Ronan slides in next to Gansey. 

“Need help with your essay, Ronan?”

“God, if you just came here to taunt me, I could have stayed in school.”

“I’m being sincere, I know you don’t know four pages worth of Latin.” 

“Okay, yes. Please.” Gansey nods. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” Gansey places his arm around his shoulders and he feels warmth in his chest. They both split a chocolate sundae, and it’s the best ice cream Ronan’s had in years, maybe because Gansey’s spit is mixed in and causing mint to explode over his taste buds again. He eats most of the whipped cream, much to Gansey’s dismay. Gansey eats the cherry and Ronan whines. He leaves the stem on the placemat and Ronan takes it, tying it in a tight knot with his tongue the way Declan taught him, and putting it back down on the placemat. 

“What else can you do with your tongue, Ronan?”

“I’m pretty good with popsicles, not to brag.” 

Gansey laughs, and Ronan smiles at him. 

“Ronan. I’m sorry for snapping earlier, it’s just, I want you to be better than that. I know you’re better.” 

“I deserved it.” 

“Yeah, you did. But I still wanted to apologize.”

“I’m not mad at you, Gansey.” 

“I’m not mad at you either. Just be better okay?”

“Ok.” 

“You want to watch movies today?”

“Yeah, meet me at my place in ten?” 

“Alright. It’s 304 Mercer Road, right?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” 

“Roger that.” Gansey leaves $30 dollars on the table and the two leave. 

When the two pull up, no one’s cars are in the driveway. Good, he doesn’t want to deal with animals at the moment. He leads Gansey down to the basement, and the stench of weed pollutes the air, mixed in with the smell of sweat. 

“Home theater, huh, Lynch?”

“I like the finer things,” Ronan kisses Gansey’s forehead. “I’ll be right back okay?” Gansey nods.

He heads to his bathroom, puking up the ice cream until only bile claws its way up to his esophagus. He rinses his mouth with mouthwash, flushing the toilet and washing his hands. 

He comes back to load Fight Club and sits in his recliner. Gansey joins him, cuddling into his side. He hardly pays attention to the film, more interested in seeing Gansey’s reactions and stroking the mess of hair on his head. When the movie ends, Gansey is screaming at the screen and Ronan laughs hysterically. 

“Holy shit, no way!” Wide hazel eyes meet his cerulean ones, and Ronan smirks. 

“What’s the other one you mentioned?”

“You want to do something else instead first?” 

“What? Horny now?”

“Yeah,” Gansey’s index finger brushes over his crotch and Ronan gasps. “You want to?”

“Sure.” Ronan is insanely nervous, thinking about -. 

“Are you still a virgin, Ronan?”

“Yeah,” he lies to Gansey, feeling guilty.

“Full of surprises, aren’t you.” 

“What about you?”

“I’ve never slept with a boy, but I’ve been with girls.” 

“Oh.” 

“We don’t have t-”

“I want to ok? Just -”

“We can wait.” 

“Come with me.” Ronan heads to his room in the back of the basement, and Gansey follows. His nerves cause him to continuously chew on the leather bands, as he watches Gansey take in the room. It’s clean, with a queen bed set in the middle, nothing else but a small chest for his clothes. 

“This is your room?”

“The one I use.”

“The sheets are soft,” Gansey runs his hands up and down the crimson satin sheets and pillowcases. 

Ronan impulsively leans in for another kiss but their noses collide instead because Gansey wasn’t ready. Hands cup his face turning it down, and the second time, the kiss is a perfect landing. Gansey’s tongue swipes at his bottom lip, and he’s unsure what to do, opening his lips. When Gansey’s tongue enters his mouth, mint and vanilla flood over his taste buds. Their tongues battle a long war, with his fingers woven into Gansey’s hair, and Gansey’s hands on his hips. Ronan is aroused, and Gansey starts to unbuckle his pants, and everything is going so good until Ronan starts shaking uncontrollably. The same thing happened when he tried to sleep with Proko last time. 

Gansey pulls back his hands and the kiss, to look at Ronan. “You ok?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m not - I’m not ready.” 

“We can just kiss, then. If you would like that?”

“Actually, maybe we should um - watch that movie. If it’s ok?”

“Oh. Yeah, no problem,” it’s a problem and Ronan is aware, Gansey is avoiding eye contact now. “Is it me?”

“What?”

“Is it because you aren’t into me?”

“No, I am into you. So into you. I’m sorry.” 

“Should I leave?”

“Please stay,” Ronan reaches out for his hand, and Gansey lets him take it. They settle back into the recliner, Gansey’s head back on his chest, while Ronan searches up the movie. 

The loud cackle of Skov cascades down the basement stairs, and Swan’s high-pitched whine fills the kitchen. Shit. Jiang and Kavinsky slink down the stairs, and Kavinsky plops down in the seat next to the two.

“Sorry if we interrupted your post-coital bliss, Lynch.”

“Fuck off.” 

“Let’s watch some porn then,” Jiang croons. 

“No. We’re watching _ It’s A Wonderful Life _.”

“The fucking Christmas movie? It’s August.” 

“I don’t give a fuck, Jiang.” 

“Proko had a mental breakdown in fifth, you missed it, Ronan. He was crying and everything.” Kavinsky laughs as if what he said was the funniest shit he’s heard all day. 

“Who cares? He’s not with us anymore, right, Ro?”

“Right.” Ronan watches Kavinsky pull a baggie of coke out of his pants pocket, rolling up a ten-dollar bill. He forms three straight lines on the back of his hand and snorts them in one fluid motion. He forms three more, holding his hand out to Ronan, and Ronan obliges. It hits him fast, and he wonders if it’s pure cocaine or laced. Or another drug altogether. Gansey refuses, and Jiang lights up a joint. The three pass it around, and Gansey still refuses.

“What’s wrong Prince Charming, sober or some shit?”

“I don’t do drugs Kavinsky.”

“Lame. Try some weed, it might help you relax for once.” Ronan’s eyes widen when Gansey actually takes the joint. He inhales it but coughs most of it out. Jiang disapproves of the waste, but Kavnisky is clearly turned on. “Wow, I have to admit that got me hard seeing you take your first hit.” 

By the time the joint is finished, Gansey is a lot better at holding it, and he’s relaxed against Ronan, high as a kite. Gansey’s lips are brushing against Ronan’s, but he’s too spaced out to apply force for a solid kiss. It’s turning him on beyond belief, and he has to turn to Kavinsky before he becomes overstimulated. 

“I’m that good, Lynch,” Kavinsky winks at him while snorting two more lines of coke. Jiang is on his phone yelling at his on-and-off-again girlfriend, completely ignoring them all. Skov and Swan are still upstairs, undoubtedly fucking on the living room sofa again. Jiang and Ronan look up at the ceiling when a heavy object thuds and a loud moan follows. Morons probably rolled off the couch onto the floor. When Ronan looks back down, Kavinsky has his dick out in his left hand, stroking himself off. 

“You’re doing that right here Kavinsky?”

“Is there a problem, Priss?” 

“Gansey’s here.” 

“He won’t even remember, plus he’s more into your chest than me.”

It’s true, Gansey has buried his face into Ronan’s shirt. “Fine.” 

“Wanna help?” Jiang snorts, now off the phone, waiting for Ronan’s response. 

“No.”

“He has to jerk Dick off now, not you K.” 

“Right. The couple thing.” 

Ronan watches Kavinsky anyway, unable to look away. A few minutes later, his breath starts to hitch, and his body is making jerky movements. Jiang lightly places his hand over the tip, and Kavinsky cums. The moan that he emits is unearthly and closer to a scream, and Ronan instantly realizes he should not be watching. Kavinsky gives him a wicked grin after coming back down, still wearing the shades, and Jiang laughs wiping cum onto Kavinsky’s pant leg.

“You like that baby?” Ronan breaks eye contact with Kavinsky, biting his leather bands again. “Your oral fixation is a cute thing to watch, Ronan. I bet you’re so good in bed.” Kavinsky winks, and Ronan wonders for the second time if he sees right through him. 

Kavinsky has cum covering his jeans but he simply tucks himself back in and zips up his fly. The remote made it into his hand at some point, and Ronan watches him load Bulgarian rap on YouTube. It blares out of the speakers, and Ronan closes his eyes, enjoying the beat under each track. When he startles awake, Gansey is snoring, curled up against his side but Kavinsky and Jiang are gone. The TV is stuck in a neutral gray screen, with the low buzzing of static filling his ears. 

He thinks about Proko, and how if he was here, Ronan would have woken back up next to him. But it is evident that Kavinsky is nothing like Proko, yet all he has left. He should dream up a new one. 

-

Gansey wakes up now, high gone, and stretches, likely sore from sleeping in a curled position half the day. “Hey.”

“Hey, man. How are you feeling?”

“Good, relaxed. I was thinking, we should work on that essay.” 

“Yeah, right. About respecting Greenmantle or some shit.” 

Gansey laughs, and Ronan leads him upstairs to his Mac. Skov and Swan are naked, sleeping on the floor in front of the couch. Kavinsky and Jiang are sleeping together on the couch, half-dressed. Ronan and Gansey avoid prolonged eye contact, snaking past to his office. Finally, they arrive and he closes the door softly. Firing up the desktop, a photo of him and Declan appear on the screen. The same background he’s had for four years. He doesn’t know why.

“Is that your brother?”

“Yeah. He lives in D.C.” 

“Are you two close?”

“No. Not anymore,” he offers nothing else and Gansey doesn’t press. 

It takes hours to write the essay, Ronan left on the brink of tears and Gansey seething at how poor his grammar is for a Latin II student. But it’s finally finished around 8 PM, and Gansey calls in two cheese pizzas for delivery. They eat the first one together, Gansey eating most of the slices and this time Ronan doesn’t knock his drink over. The rest of his boys devour the second pizza Gansey ordered. Kavinsky takes Ronan’s plate when he slides it over, glancing at the small pieces of a slice before eating it. Gansey gives him a kiss goodbye and drives back to Monmouth. Skov and Swan cheer, toasting at the kiss. Ronan feels a deep ache in his chest as soon as the Camaro roars down the end of his road. He hears Jiang say they’re heading out but remains seated to indicate his disinterest. Finally, ten minutes later, the four leave and he is left alone. 

For the first time in a long time, the silence around him is deafening, and he wishes he would have gone with them. He calls Gansey instead, and he picks up instantly.

“Ronan? I just got home, what’s up?” There’s murmuring in the background and he hears Gansey yell Noah’s name in the background. Then he’s back. “Hey?” 

“Hey. I just um wanted to know if you made it home safely.” 

“Yeah, I did. Thanks.”

“That’s not really why I called.”

“I know, Ronan. So tell me.” 

“I really like you. Sorry, I messed it up.” He sounds dangerously close to crying and the words come out broken. 

“What are you talking about, you didn’t mess anything up, Ronan.” 

“About the sex.”

“What about it? I don’t mind. You tell me when you’re ready.” 

“Okay.” 

“I didn’t mean to pressure you, Ronan. I’m not normally so -” More loud murmuring and bangs are in the background. “Listen, honey, do you want to come here? We’re moving furniture around if you’re into that.” He lets it sink in that Gansey called him honey, and decides after a long pause that he likes it. 

Clearly flustered by the prolonged silence, Gansey coughs. “Sorry, I don-”

“I like it.” Ronan is fiddling with his bands, tracing the deep scars underneath. 

“Well, then. Um, good. Are you sleeping here?” 

“Be right there,” Ronan hangs up. He grabs his backpack, shoving a uniform and clean underwear inside, and his toothbrush. He prints out the Latin essay and puts it in his folder so he isn’t humiliated by Greenmantle again. He ignores the other mound of homework piled on his desk, leaving the house. 

When he arrives on the second floor of Monmouth, he knocks and a pale blonde boy answers the door. He has light golden eyes, with violet half-moons underneath, and a smudge on his cheek. Ronan isn’t sure why, but the boy doesn’t look real.

“Noah Czerny.” His hand is held out, and Ronan shakes it.

“Ronan Lynch.” 

“Cool, you’re his boyfriend?”

“Yes.” 

“Huh, not who I expected. Ok,” Noah lets him in now, shutting the door behind him. 

“Do you go to, uh, Aglionby?”

“Sometimes.”

He is reminded of Kavinsky’s non-committal attitude in this statement. Gansey emerges from Noah’s room, covered in dust, and gives Ronan a kiss. He’s never been kissed so much in one day and he is not complaining. 

“Hi. So we’re moving the dresser, come on. You’ll be more helpful than Noah.” 

Noah sticks his middle finger in Gansey’s face and the three make their way into the large bedroom. After several minutes, filled with Ronan and Noah’s swears, the room is finally finished. The bed is now in the center, with the dresser on the right-facing wall. He’s still struck by how un-lived in the room appears, even with Noah standing in it. 

“Thanks, guys,” Noah smiles, and now he looks more real. 

Ronan smiles back while Gansey lightly punches Noah in the arm. “No problem.” 

“If you are two are fucking tonight, I’m watching.” 

“Noah, first of all -”

“Oh relax, Gansey, I’m joking.” 

It’s only 10 PM, and Ronan is not close to falling asleep, buzzing with energy.

“I’m picking up Adam from work, do you want to come?” 

“I don’t think he likes me, Gansey.” 

“Well you two are going to have to like each other, might as well start tonight.” 

“Fine,” Ronan and Noah follow to the Camaro. Noah opens the passenger door, but Gansey shoos him to the back. Ronan gets in the passenger seat, rubbing the back of his neck, hoping Noah isn’t offended. 

“Man this sucks, now I have to be in the backseat.” Noah sighs dramatically. 

“Boyfriend comes first.”

“Bros before hoes, man.” Gansey laughs. Ronan smiles.

Adam barrels out of work, from a mechanic shop, wearing a utility jumpsuit. He looks breathtaking, with grease smeared on his cheeks, his curly hair plastered to his head from humidity. Gansey watches him as long as Ronan does, and Adam slides in next to Noah. 

“Hey, Lynch.” 

“Hey, Parrish.”

“‘Hi Gansey my best-friend, literally picking me up from work, about to feed me, I love you’,” Gansey mocks Adam’s drawl, “‘You’re welcome Adam, no problem, I love you too’.”

Adam smiles, not answering, as the car peels out of the lot. They pull into a McDonald’s drive-thru and Gansey orders a Big Mac meal for Adam. Ronan asks for a strawberry smoothie, and Noah says he’s not hungry. Gansey orders himself a McFlurry. The total is $13 and Ronan digs into his pocket for his wallet. Gansey gives him a glare, pulling forward to the window, and handing over an AMEX. 

“I’ll pay you back, Gansey, when I get pa-”

“Nope, sorry Adam, I have no clue what you’re talking about.” 

Adam rolls his eyes, and there’s a slight twinge of red forming under his freckles. Gansey takes them to the park over the other side of town, and they eat under the stars. There’s an ease between the three of them, and Ronan knows that the trio has been friends for years by the manner in which they speak. Gansey goes out of his way to pull Ronan into the conversation, and he’s grateful, unsure of how to do it himself. After, they drop Adam off at a dirty trailer park, and the man at the front door looks like an angrier version of the thin boy in the backseat. He looks mean, and fear crawls it’s way down Ronan’s chest at the idea of him. Adam thanks them and gets out, walking with a slight hunch, and Ronan feels pained at the sight. He thinks about the black eye.

When they get back to Monmouth, Ronan is still uncomfortable, and Noah shuts his door presumably going to bed, the mood now sour. Gansey and he get ready for bed in the bathroom, and Ronan spits out the toothpaste turning to face Gansey. 

“What’s that look mean?”

“What was that earlier? At the trailer park.”

“Adam’s father. It’s where he lives, Ronan.” 

“His father looks like an asshole.”

“He is.”

“Do something,” He feels like crying in anger, shaking now.

“I want to honey, but Adam refuses to let me intervene and -. Are you okay?” Gansey is worried, he can tell by the crinkle forming between his eyebrows. Ronan doesn’t answer, unsure what to say. “Ronan? Do you want to talk to me about something?” 

The concern is a stark contrast to just a few days ago, when they were on the asphalt of the lot, taunting each other. When he gave Gansey a black eye, for his own ego, and he wishes he could take it all back. He wishes he had never been cruel to Adam, wondering if he’s afraid of Ronan too. He starts to cry, and Gansey guides him over to the bed. 

When they lie down, Ronan curls into him, and Gansey rubs his back. A long-time passes before he speaks again.

“I don’t know how to talk about it. I’ve never really said it to anyone out loud.” 

Gansey is startled by his sentence as if he forgot asking earlier. “Do the best you can, I’ll listen.” 

“My father’s in jail. He used to - he wasn’t nice to me. Declan was his favorite, and he would buy him things all the time and take him on trips. He would leave me in a closet and forget about me for days at a time. He told me he hated me so much, I hated myself too. Anyway, one day my teacher saw all these bruises around my neck and called CPS. They came to interview me, and I told them the truth. Declan and my dad denied it all, but I had to get a medical exam and there was evidence so -” 

“Evidence of what Ronan?,” Gansey is pained, not really wanting to know the truth but asking anyway.

“Semen. So, he went to jail for neglect, child abuse, and child molestation. 30 years, plus he can’t be around me or Declan anymore. And Declan stopped talking to me after the hearing, called me a liar, and moved to D.C. Look I’m sorry for lying about being a virgin -” 

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” 

“I really miss Declan. That’s why I keep the background, but we haven’t talked in four years. I got the house in the settlement so he bought a condo. Last year, I cut myself really bad and almost bled out. Jiang found me and flipped shit, took me to the ER. They called Declan because he’s my legal guardian, but he didn’t show up. I had to stay for three days in observation. He sent a sympathy card in the mail that week didn’t even sign his name.” 

Gansey is touching his scar now, and he resists the urge to yank his wrist away. Light pressure is placed over his scar, and Gansey kisses his forehead. He’s not sure why he told Gansey one of the most private, and personal aspects of his life when they’ve been together for three days. He trusts Gansey more than anyone else, he realizes then. It’s not as if he could tell Proko or Kavinsky something like that. He wonders how pathetic Gansey will think he is now, worries he’ll dump him. Worried he’ll tell people. 

“Don’t tell anyone, please. Declan would freak.” 

Gansey is aware that he is using Declan as a scapegoat for his fear, evident by the glint in his eyes and a slight frown.

“I won’t Ronan. I promise.” 

“Do you think I’m disgusting?” 

“What? No. Why would you say that?” 

“I’m a bad person.” 

“You’re not a bad person, you do bad things, but you’re not a bad person. Everyone does bad things. I want you to know that nothing you did made you deserving of that treatment.” 

Even though therapists have said this countless times, it’s the first time he truly starts to believe he isn’t at fault. He sobs hard, and falls apart in Gansey’s arms, in the silent apartment for what feels like hours. 

-

At 7 AM, Gansey wakes him up, handing him a plate of blueberry pancakes and bacon on a tray. 

“Ah, the old breakfast in bed for childhood trauma story trade-off.”

“Do you like pancakes and bacon? I wasn’t really uh sure,” his comment is ignored.

“Yes, thanks.” Gansey smiles. 

“Eat, and take a shower okay? We can go to school together, but I have to get Adam at 7:40.”

Ronan does, sliding into the passenger seat of the Camaro, at 7:30. Gansey scoops Adam, who now has a second black eye and purple throat. Ronan looks out the window the rest of the way. Adam is shifting around a lot, sore. When they arrive at school, he attends his classes, willing to listen to the drone of teachers instead of his crashing thoughts. At lunch, he heads to his table, where Adam and Gansey already are. The only spot left open for him is next to Gansey, and he slides in. 

“Lynch! You missed the coolest explosion last night,” Skov says excitedly.

“Jiang and I could hear your orgasm from the basement, don’t worry.” 

The table erupts in laughter and Skov sticks out his tongue, not actually angry. Kavinsky looks at him for a while. “What, K?” 

“Ditching us for Gansey already, tsk tsk.” He smiles at Kavinsky, refusing to take the bait. Kavinsky pouts instead. “Adam, you single or are those black eyes from your boyfriend?” 

Adam looks up, apparently from deep thought, and runs his hands over his pants, uncomfortable. “Yeah.” He ignores the other part. 

“Want to go on a date?” 

“With uh - with you?” 

“Duh.” 

“Okay,” Gansey and Ronan both shoot their eyebrows up, “After school?” 

“We can take my chariot, Princess.” Adam nods and Kavinsky grins, reminding him of a great white shark. 

“Everyone’s pairing up, and I’m all alone,” Jiang pretends to be hurt. Just then, Ashley barrels into the cafeteria, making eye contact with him. Death glare.

“Fuck, Jiang. Your bitch is here.” 

The whole table turns, watching her stride up. The cafeteria is drooling at a female, especially one as beautiful as her, her short skirt not helping. She comes right up to Jiang, tits nearly in his face. 

“Why have you been ignoring my calls?” She is screaming, psychotic as usual. He rolls his eyes at the spectacle. “And who are these guys?”

“Babe, I’m in class, you know how it be. And I’ve told you a million times, they’re my boys.”

“Well, are your boys going to take care of your erection?” She purrs this, drawing attention to Jiang’s problem. 

“It’s what we’re here for baby,” Kavinsky purrs back. She turns bright red, steam seeming to escape her ears. Kavinsky is slapped hard, and the sound echoes around the silent cafeteria. “Mm, just how I like it,” Ashley groans in anger, ignoring Kavinsky’s cackle.

“Ma'am you need to leave,” Mr. Locas strides up, placing a hand on Ashley’s elbow. 

“Fine. You can fuck your little boyfriend for all I care! When he gives back your balls, call me.” She turns on her heels, out of Mr. Locas’s grasp, strutting out of the cafeteria as if it’s a runway. Ass bouncing. Jiang books it after her, begging her to not leave. 

“Are they always like this,” Gansey asks, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. 

“Yes. She’s annoying as hell.” 

“And a crazy bitch.” 

“True that.” 

“He’ll probably eat her out in the back of her car again.” 

Ronan snorts. Adam laughs, and he is relieved to hear the sound. He puts his arm around Gansey. Just to touch him. 

At Latin, Ronan waits for Greenmantle so he can hand in this essay. Mike barrels past him, without a word. Whelk and Greenmantle walk-in at the bell and the class are mostly quiet. Gansey and Adam are talking, non-verbally, about something.

“Lynch, Mayers, do you have your essays?” They both nod and Greenmantle collects Mike’s first. “I can’t wait to read this, Mayers.” 

Ronan starts blushing, knowing Greenmantle is coming next. Just like yesterday, his personal space is invaded and he hands him the essay. “You did this yourself?” Greenmantle looks impressed and Ronan thinks about lying. “Or did your ‘boyfriend’ help?” Gansey glances away. 

“Just take the essay,” Ronan spits out in anger. 

“Read it to the class.” 

“What?” Ronan is bright red. And the class starts to laugh at him.

“Read your essay out loud, please.” 

“I hardly find that necessary,” Gansey interjects, “You asked him to write an essay, he did.”

“Richard Gansey, I’ve heard all about you,” Greenmantle turns to face his desk. 

“Then you know who you’re messing with,” Gansey gives a smile that reminds Ronan of a lion before taking down prey. Greenmantle holds up the essays in a truce, striding back to the front. Ronan lets out a sigh of relief. Adam puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezes it lightly for reassurance. 

When they leave Latin, Ronan shoves Gansey against a locker, kissing him hard. They make out for a while, not bothering to head to the next period. No one bothers them, because everyone is afraid of them. Ronan pulls away sometime later, gasping for air, and Gansey is flushed. 

“You’re the best.” 

“That’s what they tell me.” 

Ronan groans and pulls Gansey to gym class. They have to run the track outside, and luckily his pack is in this period. The boys walk the track, in a conglomerate, annoying the overachievers. Ronan holds Gansey’s hand, and Kavinsky has his arm around Adam’s waist. The teacher ignores the pack, yelling at everyone else to pick up the pace. Jiang has a hickey on his neck, and Swan cracks a joke about Ashley. Everything is perfect.

A fist collides with his nose, and the searing pain floods his senses. “Fuck you, Ronan.” It’s Proko’s voice, and his vision is blurring from tears. 

“Fuck out of here, Proko.” 

Jiang hits him in the stomach. Proko groans in pain. Gets up and goes for Ronan’s throat. Kavinsky’s fist catches Proko in the jaw, and Ronan hears a crunch. Kavinsky kicks Proko in the ribs and is screaming in his face to go back to the insane asylum. Gansey and Adam drag Ronan away, but he can still hear his boys fighting in the background. The gym teacher is prying Kavinsky off Proko when he glances back, and there’s blood everywhere. He knows Kavinsky did it for him, and he is grateful. Gansey is talking to him, but he’s dizzy, leaning heavily on him. 

When they get to the nurse, she sighs, handing Ronan a tissue to stop the flow of blood. She sets his nose again, used to his injuries. Her name is Marie, he remembers from last time. Bandaging up his nose, she makes him drink two glasses of water, and lie down. Gansey tells him he’ll get him at the end of the day, and Ronan falls asleep. He startles when Gansey shakes his shoulder, waking from a hazy dream. Gansey helps him up, handing him another cup of water. 

“What happened?” 

“Proko and Kavinsky are suspended for three weeks. Proko’s in the hospital from Kavinsky, according to Jiang, he messed him up bad.” 

“I can’t believe he fucking punched me.” 

“You sent his dick around the school.” 

“He already yelled at me for that.”

Gansey laughs, in disbelief, and Ronan smirks, letting the tension melt away. 

“You’re so ridiculous, Ronan.”

“Is that why you like me?” 

“Mmhm,” Gansey kisses his forehead. 

“No rush to defend me, O Boyfriend?” 

“I couldn’t get a fist in, Kavinsky was ripping him apart.” 

“Just messing with you, I wouldn’t want your pretty face damaged.” 

“What’s with Kavinsky?”

“Huh?”

“Why’d he go so ballistic?” 

“He took Proko’s place, and wants to prove he’s my number one.” 

“I’m not your number one,” Gansey exaggeratedly pounds his fist against his heart, “My heart is broken.” 

“You’re my number one, but he’s my boy.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“I love you.” _ What the fuck _he screams to himself. He watches Gansey’s eyes widen, and hears an uncomfortable laugh. “I don - I - have no idea -” 

“I think your head got hit too hard. Let’s go,” Gansey smiles, letting Ronan off the hook apparently. 

The whole ride, now just him and Gansey, is awkward because Ronan is embarrassed. Adam still went out with Kavinsky. God knows why. Gansey talks about little things, and Ronan answers him. 

“Where do you want to go for dinner?” 

“Can we go to Taco Shack?” The tacos there give him diarrhea so he won’t have to throw up if he eats too many.

“Yeah, we can.” 

“Can we go now? I’m hungry.” Gansey heads to the highway. 

When the two pull up, Gansey looks at Ronan for a while. “Take a picture, Gansey, it’ll last longer.” 

“Ronan.” 

“What?”

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Maybe, what is it?” 

“Do you think I’m a bad person, for not helping Adam enough?”

Ronan’s thoughts whirl around, and he takes a while to form a coherent thought. 

“I wish someone would have said something when I was younger when it was just being shoved into a closet. I wish Declan would have told someone. But Adam isn’t me. So, no I don’t think you’re a bad person, Gansey. I think you two should talk about it.” 

“I see. Thanks, Ronan.”

“Not sure why you’re thanking me.” 

“I like your perspectives, now come on, let’s get overpriced tacos.” 

The restaurant is crowded, and a lot of boys from their school are around, but no one Ronan cares for. Gansey and he slipped into a booth in the back. This time, the date goes better, and he wonders if the third time's the charm. Henry Cheng enters halfway through their dinner, with his crowd, and sees Gansey. Ronan watches him walk over, and slide into the booth. 

“Hey, Gansey Boy!”

“Hi, Henry. What’s up?” 

“You running for council?”

“No, I’m busy, sorry.” 

“Right, with Lynch’s crowd.” Henry fixes his stare on Ronan now, expression unreadable. 

“Something like that. But I’d be happy to sign your campaign sheet, or help with posters.” 

“Thanks, here’s my number. I’ll let you two get back to your date now,” Henry slides out of the booth heading to the table with the rest of his friends.

Ronan watches his phone screen light up with a call and looks. It’s Declan. He answers it immediately. 

“Hello?” 

“Ronan, it’s Declan.”

“I know.” 

“Oh right um. Can we meet up to talk?” 

“When?” 

“Tonight? I’m in town, on business.” 

“Yeah, we can. What time?”

“An hour from now, meet me over at Benchwarmer’s Cafe.” 

“I’m with someone, but he can drop me off.”

“Alright, see you then,” Declan hangs up. 

He is buzzing from nerves and tells Gansey about meeting Declan. 

“Do you want me to come and casually sit at another table?” Gansey is worried, and Ronan shakes his head. 

“No, I want to face him on my own. I’ll call you when we’re done, you wouldn’t mind, right?” 

“No problem.” 

-

Forty-five minutes later, Ronan is humming with nerves at a table, already having downed a cappuccino unsure if the caffeine was a good idea. He sees Declan from outside, he looks more grown-up now, more confident. His features are chiseled marble, sharper than Ronan’s, and his handsomeness draws attention when he steps over the threshold of the cafe. When he sits across from Ronan, it’s as if time blurs into an infinity of moments, their childhood flashing through his mind. 

“Ronan, hi.” 

“Hey. You look different than the last time I saw you.”

“So do you. You look good.” Declan shifts in his seat.

“Why did you want to meet up?” 

“I wanted to talk about Dad.” 

“I told you, I was telling the tru-”

“I know, Ronan. I wanted to apologize to you. For how I acted. It wasn’t fair. I was so mad that Dad was being put in jail, and I couldn’t believe the shit you said. But thinking back on it, the signs were there. And I’m sorry. For not being a good brother or friend to you. I’m sorry for not visiting you in the hospital, I felt I would make you feel worse showing up out of the blue. I’m sorry for a lot of things, Ronan.”

“Do you remember the picture of us, at Acadia National Park, when you were thirteen?”

“Yeah,” Declan answers, clearly wondering about the deviance in conversation.

“It’s my background, and the only vacation we had together. I missed you so much, Declan. I must have called you a hundred times until I got the picture. That you didn’t want to talk to me again. It hurt more than you calling me a liar after the trial.” 

Declan flinches at Ronan’s mention of his behavior, and he clears his throat. “I’ve treated you terribly, and I’m not asking you to forgive me. I only came here to apologize. Do you want me to go?”

“Could we talk? Like maybe over the phone or I could see you sometimes?” 

“We can do that, Ronan. If you want to.”

“Declan, I really want my brother back. I know I made a mistake telling on Dad, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fuck your life up.”

“You were right to report him, I should have stood up for you.” Ronan can’t believe Declan said it, and he stares at his leather bands, obscuring the scars from Declan’s line of sight. “What kind of brother am I?” Ronan is silent. 

“I have a boyfriend, do you want to meet him?” Declan flinches, torn out of his thoughts.

“Is that who dropped you off,” a small smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah, we were on a date when you called.” 

“Cockblock, huh?” Ronan laughs, and so does Declan. His chest feels warm hearing the laughter again. “Sure, he can come.” 

That’s how Ronan, Declan, and Gansey end up at a table, drinking hot cocoa, and talking about their lives. Ronan is happier than he’s been in years, and Gansey is constantly looking over at him. He tells Declan about his boys but fails to mention the falling out of Proko, as if Kavinsky was always his number one. Gansey tells Declan about his courting methods, causing him to blush and Declan to chuckle. Declan tells Ronan about becoming a lawyer, and that he represents abuse victims. Ronan is silent for a long time after, and Gansey is too. 

“I’m proud of you, Declan,” Ronan is being genuine, and Declan smiles. 

“I’m proud of you too, you’ve made a life for yourself here. I have to head back, early day tomorrow. I’ll call you.” 

“Yeah okay, goodnight Declan.”

“Goodnight. Nice to meet you Gansey,” they shake hands. Ronan and Declan don’t touch each other, and Declan strides out of the cafe.

Gansey is rubbing his back in small circles, and Ronan leans his head onto the boy’s shoulder. 

“I’m proud of you, Ronan. That must have been hard seeing him again.”

“It was, but it was also good. I think we can mend things, and I could have a brother again.”

“I’m sure you two can. Things went well tonight, you looked happier than I’ve ever seen you.”

He kisses Gansey on the lips, overwhelmed with the wave of happiness coursing through his body. Gansey kisses him as if he is a reverent object, a whole piece, rather than the shattered boy he has become. They break apart, and Ronan closes his eyes, content. 

“Ready to go, honey?” 

“Your place?” 

“Don’t like your own house?” 

“Too crowded.” 

“Alright, come on. Let’s see if Adam is done with his date.” 

The two are in Gansey’s car when he dials Adam’s number, Ronan hears the southern accent over the phone and smiles. The conversation is entertaining, even one-sided, and he tries to eavesdrop leaning close. Gansey shoos him playfully. Gansey hangs up after a few minutes.

“He actually likes Kavinsky,” Gansey is shell-shocked as if saying this aloud made it come true.

“Jeez, here I thought he was talking to you about marriage.” Gansey smiles at him. “I’ll get the details from K, he loves to share.” 

“No boundaries, Lynch.” 

“Let’s go back, Gansey.” 

“Patience is a virtue.”

“I was going to give you a blow-” Gansey peels the car from the curb, speeding off to his place, Ronan laughing hysterically. 

-

Crashing through the door, it’s difficult to make their way to the bed, considering Ronan refuses to stop kissing Gansey. A low growl is escaping Gansey, and his erection is brushing against Ronan’s hip. Gansey’s knees finally collide into the bed, and he pushes him down. He sinks to his knees, and Gansey’s eyes glaze over with lust. Unbuttoning his chinos, Ronan pulls out his dick, biting his lip. It’s bigger than his, and heat floods over his face, as he imagines -

“We don’t have to you if you’re not ready, Ronan.” 

“No, I want to, really. Don’t worry.” 

“Okay,” Gansey hitches his breath when Ronan lightly trails his shaft with his tongue. “God.” 

Ronan takes his time working his tongue, remembering Kavinsky’s technique. He doubts he can actually take Gansey whole, but tries to anyway, choking an inch from the base. Gansey moans in ecstasy, and Ronan is aroused from the sound. He’s not sure what to really do, because Gansey isn’t fucking his mouth, so he bobs his head up and down the length. That’s what pornstars do, so he figures it’s good. Gansey is shamelessly moaning, and Ronan is enjoying the taste of precum leaking from the tip.

Now Gansey fucks into his mouth, and Ronan moans at the feeling. His movements are erratic, and he knows Gansey is close to cumming. He’s about to cum himself, trying desperately not to. Gansey thrusts into him again, and yells his name, cumming into his mouth. He swallows it, which is harder than Kavinsky made it seem, but manages to get it all. He pulls off and watches Gansey’s breathing return to normal. Gansey’s face is flushed, and his mouth is part way open, rasping breath. Ronan is halfway there, and Gansey pulls him onto the bed. 

“Ronan, do you want me to finish you off?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I can give you a blowjob too. Okay?”

Ronan nods, and Gansey moves down to his crotch, unbuckling his pants. His briefs are pulled down, and he sharply inhales. The cigarette burns littering his thighs are kissed by Gansey. His shirt is left on because he stopped Gansey’s hands from lifting it. 

“Is this ok?”

“Mmhm.” Ronan is very close to cumming, and Gansey can tell. 

Gansey wraps his mouth around his erection, swallowing down to the base. Ronan groans in pleasure at the sensation, and Gansey flicks his tongue. His mouth is moving up and down, Ronan gasping for air. Gansey’s hands are trailing up his hips and it’s causing him to moan, appreciating the light touch. His fists are in Gansey’s hair, and he takes him in full again. Ronan cums, losing himself, whimpering Gansey’s name. Gansey swallows too, whether, for Ronan’s benefit or his own, he’s unsure. 

Gansey falls back onto the bed, and Ronan curls up against him, placing his head on his chest.

“That was so good, Ronan, Christ.” 

“You were really fucking good.” 

Gansey laughs, and he does too, happy again. When Ronan decides he’s cuddled long enough, he emerges from the warmth of Gansey. He takes a long shower, Noah coming into pee in the middle, and Ronan not putting up much of a fight. 

“So, Lynch. Enjoying your stay here at Casa de Gansey?”

Ronan nearly drops the soap at the sound of Noah’s voice, and his head pokes through the shower curtain. Staring at his dick immediately, causing Ronan to cover up self-consciously. Noah glances at the litter of scars and burns on his chest but then makes abrupt eye contact. Smirking at Ronan. 

“Nice package, I see why he lets you crash here.” Ronan flushes, and Noah laughs. “By the way, stop using my towel, _ whore _.” Noah turns to leave and Ronan places his forehead against the cool green shower tile, exhaling. When he gets out, he dries himself off with Gansey’s towel. He walks out, clad in the towel and dirty t-shirt, unsure what to wear. Gansey points to a dresser and he pulls out briefs, black jeans, and a garish orange flannel to layer over his black t-shirt. 

“I have to go out with the boys,” he leans down to kiss Gansey, “Wanna come and see if Adam’s there?”

Gansey nods, slipping on the same outfit, and following him out the door. Noah is already down in the car, and Ronan’s eyebrow is arched. He earns another smirk in return. Gansey pulls out to the fairgrounds that Ronan indicated, and Noah chats him up about school assignments. 

Skov and Swan are in the car fucking, Jiang is with Ashley making out, and Kavinsky is laying with Adam on the hood of his Mitsubishi. Ronan comes over and slaps Kavinsky’s crotch, and he hears a yelp. 

“What’s up boys?” 

“Could it be? Ronan Lynch among peasants with the King?” 

“Real funny, K.” 

“Adam thinks I should be a comedian right?” He’s sitting with his knees pressed to his chest, giving Kavinsky and Ronan a weak smile. 

“Right, hi boys. Noah?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Parrish.” 

Adam nods, and he wonders if the two might not be as close as he thought. “So how was your date night?” Ronan leans over Kavinsky, staring at Adam. 

“Easy as pie, like you Lynch.” Kavinsky maniacally laughs, watching Adam’s face turn bright red, finding newfound interest in his tattered converse. He seriously wonders if Adam slept with Kavinsky, and is looking at Gansey. 

“You know Kavinsky, there’s more to life than sex and drugs.” 

“What a shame it would be without those though, eh, Dick?”

“I suppose. So what are you neanderthals up to?”

“Now that you’ve joined us, we were going to blow up a few explosives what do you say?”

“Are you high?”

“Baby, I never said I was sober since the day we met,” Kavinsky slides off the hood, pulling a firework out of his pocket. Adam looks uncomfortable so Ronan sits next to him on the hood while Gansey and Noah trail after K. 

“We didn’t have sex -”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Adam. I haven’t had sex with Gansey either.”

“I know.” 

“How?” 

“Because Gansey isn’t one to flaunt. And Noah would tell me.” 

“I think Noah hates me.”

“He’s just an asshole, it’s not you in particular.”

Ronan nods, biting his lip, glancing at the bruises on his neck. “Adam.” 

“What?”

“You can talk to me about um anything.” 

“My bruises you mean?”

“Anything.”

“And you suddenly give a fuck about me? Look, just because you and Gansey are with each other, doesn’t mean we have to be BFFs.”

“You know what Parrish, maybe consider that after spending some time with you, I like you. And want to make sure you’re ok and have someone to talk to.” Adam flinches slightly at his curt tone, and Ronan casts his eyes to the dirt ground. “I’m sorry. It’s hard for me to get close to people. They usually run away screaming. I’m a monster.” He thinks about his body and how deformed he is, and the fact that Gansey still hasn’t seen him shirtless. And the fear that he will eventually. 

He looks up at Adam again and notices that he’s crying. Oh man, why does he always fuck up a conversation? He doesn’t know if he should wrap his arms around the boy or leave the hood, but Adam’s presses his face against his chest answering for him. He lets Adam cry and the boys ignore it, off to blow up things farther down with K after one glare from Ronan. Adam sobs for a long time, and Ronan runs his hand over his hair, rocking him like Declan used to. Eventually, Adam pulls back and sits up again. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for yelling.”

“It’s ok. I’m sorry about your shirt.” 

He looks down and sees a trailing mess of snot and tears down his t-shirt. He shrugs and pulls it off, tossing it on the fairgrounds, then buttons Gansey’s flannel up. “Better, see?” He thinks too late that Adam took a glance at the scars covering his torso, but not a word passes between them. How could he be stupid? Now Adam will tell Gansey. He closes his eyes, and Adam touches his cheek tenderly. 

“You’re not a monster, Ronan, inside or out.” 

Adam wraps his arms around Ronan in a tight hug. He is surprised at the touch, flinching slightly at the pressure, and he’s only been hugged like this by Skov. Adam kisses his cheek and pulls back. “Thanks, Ronan.” 

“Sure,” he is feeling embarrassed now, and fiddling with his bands. He can feel the weight of Adam’s eyes on his wrists, on the long vertical scar. He is waiting for the onslaught of questions about each of the scars when Adam slides to the ground and meanders to the rest of the boys. He sighs, getting off to follow. 

Gansey is murmuring to Adam off to the side, and both glance at him and Noah occasionally. His boys are fooling around, but he’s too focused on Gansey and Adam. Fear has led his shoulders to form a tight knot and the weight of his mistake weighs heavily on his chest. Noah slings an arm around him, and he remembers his shower earlier. Even Noah knows. He sighs, tensing up more, his spine coiling in heat, and his eyes at the ground. Suddenly, K grabs him by the arm, away from all of the others not missing the accompanying flinch from him. Only Gansey is making occasional peripheral eye contact, probably to record Ronan’s location. Kavinsky flips up his sunglasses and meets Ronan’s eyes with an icy stare. 

“Lynch. You need to start talking about your issues. The fuck happened to you, get curb stumped?” 

“Daddy issues,” he glances away, trying to keep it light, and K tightens his grip on his right wrist now, indicating the scar.

“This too?”

“None of your fucking business,” he sneers, “and don’t run your mouth either or I’ll pull your teeth out one by one and cut out your tongue.” 

Kavinsky doesn’t react in fear, but by the hard set of his lips, he’s aware that there is no doubt in his threat. “I don’t tell secrets, Ronan. I trade them.”

“What the fuck ever. Who else saw me?” 

“No one. Maybe Gansey though, but none of your boys, I distracted them with a bomb. You’re welcome, next time don’t yank your shirt off in public if it’s a big secret.”

“I didn’t think about it alright? I was trying to help Adam.” 

“Telling him he’s not alone?” K lifts an eyebrow and leans into his left ear, sweat dripping down his back from his nerves. “I had daddy issues too, Ronan. The best way to deal with it is an ice pick to the heart.” Ronan startles but is unsurprised by the admission. 

“He’s in prison.”

“Have someone shank him then.” Ronan would never dare, and K leans back with a grin. “By the way, Lynch, are you and Gansey even legit or is the whole relationship as null as your sex life? Paying him to faux date you?”

The comment is meant to dig under his skin, and to his dismay he allows it to barb him. The punch to Kavinsky’s nose is hard and lands perfectly. The best punch yet he’s thrown. Kavinsky spits out blood and just laughs. Everyone is staring at the two now. 

“Well, Lynch. Party foul. But I still want my answer,” blood is pooling down and staining Kavinsky’s teeth as he speaks. 

“Of course we’re dating, you piece of shit,” Ronan screams and Kavinsky cackles loudly. Gansey’s hand is on his shoulder, and he flinches instinctively. 

“Time to go, Ronan. Now.” There is a tense edge to Gansey’s voice, and he turns to follow the three boys to the Camaro. 

“Still a virgin then?” Kavinsky taunts at his back and heat creeps up his neck. His boys and Ashley are silent. 

Adam turns around, and Kavinsky finally falls silent as well. He sighs in relief, glad his secrets are safe for now. He slides into the back with Noah instead of the passenger seat, and Adam gets in next to Gansey.

-

“Explain it, Ronan.”

“Explain what,” he sneers and Gansey’s head snaps in his direction. His stare unnerves Ronan and he breaks eye contact instantly. 

“The punch.” 

“No. Take me home, Gansey.” 

“Adam first, he has a curfew.” 

Not a word passes between the four of them on the way to the dinghy trailer park. When they get there, a woman is standing in the doorway, a robe tightening around her at the sight of the Camaro. Adam’s father shoves her and comes up to the passenger window, tapping on the glass. Adam gulps. _ Asshole _.

Ronan kicks open his door and is standing in front of Adam’s dad in an instant. He sees the boys jump, and his father snarls at him. Smaller than him, but making up for it in meanness. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

“What do you want with him?”

“To talk to my son, you pissant.”

“No. You can talk to me.” 

“What the hell did you just say?”

Ronan presses his chest against the man. “Take it or leave it.”

“Tell that little slimeball that he’s no longer welcome in my fucking house. DID YOU HEAR ME?” With the last sentence, he makes eye contact with Adam, and Ronan sees tears trailing down his face. 

“Then let’s go get his things. Now.” 

Ronan follows the man into the trailer, the woman now with a hand over her mouth. A black eye like Adam. He is led to a small room, with a bare mattress and a pile of neatly folded clothing in a corner, there’s a locked small safe in the opposite corner of the mattress. The room is otherwise bare. He gathers the meager belongings into a duffle bag the man throws his way. 

He clears his throat, as he checks the empty closet. “Is this it?” 

“Yeah, little shit is worthless.” 

He pushes past the man, and is out the door, slamming it behind him and stalking over to the Camaro. He opens the passenger door and places the duffle bag gingerly into Adam’s lap. Then he gets into the backseat. Gansey reverses out of the driveway and speeds out of the park. 

“Ronan,” Adam makes out through his sobs. But nothing else is said. This is irreparable and a major fuck up, and he is aware. When Gansey pulls up to his driveway, he gets out only to find his BMW keyed. _ Virgin _, sprawled from his driver’s side door to the back door. Anyone could have done it, but Proko and Kavinsky are the only ones with enough balls. Since Proko is still in the hospital, that leaves one glaring choice. Anger overtakes him and he slams the Camaro door shut, waiting for Gansey to peel away before he does something else stupid. Instead, he hears another door slam and closes his eyes. 

“Ronan.” Gansey’s voice is strangled.

“I understand Gansey, just leave. You don’t need to say it.” He whirled around and finds himself pinned to the BMW by Gansey.

“Listen to me, right now.” No politeness is left in his tone, and fear creeps into his chest at the words. He’s heard them so many times from his father, it’s said in his voice rather than Gansey’s. A deformed sob claws its way out of his chest in the form of a scream. Gansey flinches but keeps his grip on Ronan. “Stop screaming.” He cries and hysterically begs Gansey to let him go until he feels less pressure on him as the boy carefully lowers his arms back to his side. Ronan stays in place, able to breathe steadier now. “Ronan, I’m -”

“Get away. Leave me alone, please.” 

“Get back in the car.” 

“What?” 

“Right now.” 

He doesn’t look back to check if he’s being forward. Ronan knows he should run inside and slam the door. Lock it. Cry. Transfer schools. Move. But instead, he is compelled to follow Gansey. Stupid. 

-

Noah and Adam stare out their windows, refusing to make eye contact with either Ronan or Gansey. They pull up in front of a precariously stacked old house, with a psychic sign out front, labeled 300 Fox Way. Adam and Noah get out fleeing inside, and Ronan sees Blue standing at the door quizzically looking at Gansey. 

“Please come into the passenger seat. I’ll keep my hands on the steering wheel, I promise.” Ronan nods carefully, and comes out of the back and slides in next to Gansey. Blue shuts the door, and he is scared once they’re alone, even though Gansey promised. What if he lied? Now he’ll get it - “Ronan. I apologize for losing my temper like that. It was inappropriate. I hope that you can forgive me. I’m upset, for Adam. That was a delicate situation and I hope that you realize the gravity of your actions and his living situation.” 

Ronan leans his head against the window, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. He understands more than Gansey will ever know about delicate situations and living situations. 

“Say something, so I know you’re paying attention, Ronan.”

“I understand Gansey.”

“Alright. Well to continue, can you please - could y - expla -”

Ronan arches an eyebrow looking over at Gansey’s face for the first time since the car ride. Gansey clears his throat and stares out the windshield. “Are they from him?”

Ronan sharply inhales, and tears fall against his will. “Who told you?” 

“I saw you take your shirt off, Ronan. At the shower earlier. And at the fairgrounds. I’m not blind.” 

“Then why didn’t you say something?”

“What the hell was I supposed to say?” 

“Nothing, just ignore it like everyone else does. Or puke if you need to, like the doctor who gave me the physical before the trial.” 

“It’s not a joke Ronan.”

“You see me laughing?”

Gansey nods and says nothing. Ronan is itching to leave, wondering what the boy has planned. 

“Can I see you?” He wraps arms around his abdomen defensively. 

“No.”

“Alright. Want some pie?” 

“What?” 

“Come on inside.” 

He has no choice besides fidgeting in the car until Gansey’s ready and he has to use the bathroom. He follows him inside the house, making eye contact with Blue, who is rubbing Adam’s back. Not a trace of friendliness is left on her face, and Ronan sneers at her. She shakes her head, disappointed and a sting pierces his heart. There are three older women floating around the room. 

“This is Ronan Lynch.” 

“We know.” 

“Where’s the bathroom?” A white-haired woman, with black eyes, gestures down the hall and he shuffles off. He locks the door behind him, urinating and washing his hands. Then he sits in the bathtub, hugging his knees to his chest. Quietly sobbing, and pressing his fingers into the whore carved above his pelvis. He throws up sideways into the tub, and a knock startles him as he wipes his face with the back of his hand.

“I’m coming in, sweetie. I have a key. I’m Maura, Blue’s mother.” She pushes open the door slowly and perches on the edge of the bathtub. She glances at the throw-up, and leaves. Ronan is humiliated, and wonders if he’s supposed to follow. When she comes back, she hands him a cold glass of water. “Drink it all, slowly.” 

He follows instructions, and the cold water cools down his anger. She waits until he’s done, placing the empty glass onto the sink. Then comes back to perch on the tub.

“I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up.” 

“Leave it, I’ll get it. Are you alright?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to already know my answer?” 

“Humor me.” 

“No. I have no idea why Gansey dragged me here. I’m sure they told you I just ruined Adam’s fucking life, and that I’m deformed everywhere. A monster.” He repeats what his father called him as he was shoved into the closet each day. “I’m unlovable.”

“Whose words are those?”

He looks up in surprise and a man enters the bathroom. Dressed in all gray, with light gray eyes. “Maura, what’s going on?” 

“Mr. Gray this is a private conversation. I will fill you in shortly, go back to the kitchen, tell Persephone to put on the kettle, and close the door.” He adheres to her commands. “Go ahead, tell me.” 

“My father.” 

“I see. What about you is deformed, Ronan?” 

“My body.” 

“Only your body?” 

“My insides. My brain.” 

Maura nods. “Many swords have pierced your heart. But do you know what I think?”

“No, I’m not a psychic.” Maura laughs, helping him stand up and make his way out of the tub. 

“You’re not deformed at all.” 

“You haven’t seen me.”

“I see what matters. Tea?” 

He follows her to the kitchen, silently. When he enters they all are around a table. One of the heavier women is making a pie. “Do you like Strawberry?” She glances at Ronan. 

“No.” He’s allergic but too embarrassed to admit it. The woman fiddles around with the fruit on the counter. 

“Blueberry?”

“Yes.” 

“Ah,” she begins to mash the fruit for a filling. He is unsure where to sit, and chooses the empty seat next to Mr. Gray. Stares down at the table to avoid eye contact with Gansey and Adam. Noah is gone. Blue is glaring at him. Maura sits next to Blue, and whispers into her ear. Her glare melts, replaced by a blank expression. Mr. Gray passes him a plate of pie several minutes later, and a fork. He eats it desperately, having lost his dinner earlier. Another piece is handed to him and he devours the slice. The white-haired woman places the tea in front of him, collecting the plate, and he drinks it. He glances up and realizes he’s the only person eating or drinking at the table. He fidgets with his leather bands under the table, glancing back down. 

“What did Strawberries ever do to you?” Blue asks her snark back. 

“I’m allergic.” He says quietly, and Maura tightens the grip on Blue’s shoulder. 

“Oh, I um sorry.” Gansey shoots her an undeniably dirty look. 

“Gansey, why am I here?” Ronan says this too loudly, and each pair of eyes are on his. “To make me uncomfortable?”

“I thought it would help you more than your empty house, Ronan.” 

“Well, you think you know everything.” Gansey inhales sharply at the spiteful tone, and Adam looks away. 

“Then would you like to leave? Or could we have a civil conversation?” 

“Okay.” 

Gansey continues, “Since everyone in this room is aware of Adam’s circumstance we need to figure out living arrangements first.” 

“I’m fine, Gansey, I’ll figure it out.” Adam avoids everyone’s eyes, glancing at the table. 

“No, I’m drawing the line here Adam. I’m helping, like it or not.” 

“He could stay at my house. No one ever uses it.” All eyes are on Ronan again. “I mean besides the boys. But they’re easy.” 

“What about Kavinsky?” 

“Kavinsky is Kavinsky, Adam. He’s a shark, out for my blood. You don’t need to worry, he won’t chew you up, not until he spits me out.” The weight of reality causes a strained whimper to escape him following the sentence. He thinks he’d let Kavinsky destroy him, and thank him all the while, blood pooling around his body. 

“Ronan -”

“Look if you don’t want to, I’m just offering. I sleep in the basement so you won’t see me if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I -”

“Forget it.” 

“That sounds okay, Ronan.” 

He is surprised, and now Adam looks up at him. He thinks about the bruises on him, and wonders if his body is littered in scars too. Gansey clears his throat. “So are you staying over again, Ronan?” 

“I didn’t realize my invitation still stood, Gansey.” 

“You think we broke up? We haven’t. Is that what you want?”

“No.” 

“Then it stands.”

Blue exchanges a look with her mother. Mr. Gray clears his throat. 

“Ronan, do you know Colin Greenmantle?” 

“Huh?” 

“Greenmantle.” 

“The teacher?” 

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Yeah, he’s an ass.” 

“I’m well-aware. Have you talked to him?” 

“Barely.” 

Mr. Gray nods, worry causing his brow to furrow. 

“Why?”

“Forget it.” 

“Uh. Ok.” 

The table has fallen silent after the awkward exchange. 

“Ronan,” Adam says and he darts his eyes to the boy, “Thanks. For getting my stuff.”

“Did I get everything?”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m sorry, Adam. I fucked up. I didn’t want him to hurt you anymore.” A pained expression passes over Gansey’s face, and Adam nods. 

“I know. Ronan I - I read the article in the paper. Four years ago.” 

“What?” His heart is pounding, threatening to vacate his fragile chest at any moment. “What?” He repeats when Adam doesn’t follow up. 

“I read the article about your father.” 

Gansey and Blue make eye contact with him now. “So all of you know? You knew the whole time, Gansey?”

“No. Adam did. Not me, I was in Germany four years ago.” 

“Ronan, I didn’t tell anyone. I just saw you when we started school last fall, and I figured you were Ronan Lynch from the court case.” 

“I see. Did Noah tell you about my -” His voice falters, realizing the mistake the moment Gansey’s eyes flicker toward him. 

“About what?,” Gansey’s voice is on edge. 

“He saw me in the shower.” 

“What the hell was he doing looking at you in the shower?” 

“That’s not the point -”

“What did he say?” 

“Forget it, Gansey.” 

“I don’t think so, tell me what he said.” 

“Stop using his towel.” 

“That’s all?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t dare mention the other comments. 

“We’ll talk later.” Ronan can tell this is not up for debate and swallows down panic. “Thank you all for the hospitality, let’s go get Adam settled, Ronan.” 

-

They leave, Ronan thanking them for the pie and tea, and hugging Maura. Then he’s in the Camaro, in the back next to Adam, while Gansey backtracks to his house. They head up to the empty second floor, and he leads Adam to Declan’s old room. 

“It’s my brother’s old room, but if you don’t like it, I can show you a different one.” 

“He’s not using it?” 

“No, he hasn’t been here in a long time.” 

“Show me the other rooms first.” He nods, closing the door. They head to a guest room, that Skov sometimes crashes in. Adam sits on the bed and looks around at the excess furniture. 

“This one’s good.” Adam comes back out after plopping his duffelbag on the ground. 

“Cool. So let me - The bathroom is here,” he points three doors down, “Kitchen downstairs. The basement has a theater screen you can use and my bedroom in the far back if you ever need me. There’s not usually food around, so I have menus on the fridge. You can order whatever, don’t worry about paying. A cleaning lady comes on Thursdays while we’re at school and does everything.” 

He glances at the closet in the hallway, and shifts uncomfortably. “I’m heading down, I don’t like this floor. Two doors down is a closet, it’s not to be used. My dad’s room is at the end of the hall, don't go inside either, please, it’s all I ask.” Adam nods respectfully and they walk down to the first floor. 

Kavinsky, Jiang, and Skov are in the living room. Swan is in the kitchen. Ronan glances at Kavinsky. 

“I didn’t do it, man, I swear. I was at the fairgrounds the rest of the night, we just got back.”

“Who?” 

“My guess is Proko? You haven’t been around much to notice.”

“Yeah. Well, Adam is staying here, so play nice.” 

Skov smiles warmly, as if he didn’t make fun of the boy a few days ago, and Adam smiles cautiously back. Skov smokes too much weed to remember things anymore, and it’s mellowed out his normally abrasive personality. Gansey takes his hand and leads him down to the basement, nodding at Adam who sits down next to K. Using the bathroom, the two get ready for bed, and Gansey runs his hand over his back. 

“Adam can buff it out and repaint it, Ronan. He wouldn’t mind, after what you are doing for him.”

“Okay. Gansey. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. I’m sorry again for tonight, that was wrong of me.” 

“You sounded just like him.” 

“God, I -”

Ronan takes off the flannel and hears a sharp intake of breath from Gansey. “This is what he did to me.” 

Gansey’s eyes trace the various size burn marks, deep scars extending over his chest, the carved word whore above his pelvis, the burn mark from the fireplace stoker on his ribcage, the stab wound scar above his hip. He traces over these all with his fingers, delicately. Ronan wonders what he’s thinking, surprised he’s touching him. No one’s ever touched his scars before, but he lets him. 

“This is what you were afraid I would see?”

“Yes. It’s disgusting.” 

Gansey kisses him, hard, and Ronan moans in shock at the touch. He kisses him back tentatively, confused at the reaction. 

“Ronan. It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

“Don’t lie, Gansey. I’m a monster.” 

“No you’re not, don’t ever say that again to yourself or anyone else.” 

“How could you love me when I look like this?” 

“Ronan, you think I’m that shallow? I expected you to have scars when you told me. And even more when you always wore a shirt around me. Loving you is loving all of you.” 

“I know you don’t, Gansey.” 

“I’m close, Ronan. I want to know more about you.” 

“You know more about me than anyone.” 

“I know, Ronan and I want to continue getting to know you, I really care about you.” 

He doesn’t believe Gansey and looks down at the tile. 

“You still really like me?”

“Yeah.” 

“Me too. Let’s go to bed. Don’t put a shirt on just lie down.” He complies, allowing Gansey to lead him to his bed. The two stripping down to their briefs, and slipping under the sheets. He holds onto Gansey for dear life, and a feeling of safety washes over him. 

“Now tell me what Noah said to you.”

“He asked how I was enjoying my stay and said I had a nice package which is why you keep me around, and to stop using his towel.” He carefully skirts around the whore tacked on at the end. 

“I see.”

“He hates me.” 

“He’s an asshole, and he doesn’t trust you, he thinks you’re using me.” Ronan blushes, is he using Gansey? He does pay for all their dates - “You’re not using me, Ronan. Don’t worry.” 

“Ok. I’m really sorry about Adam. He was going to hurt him, Gansey.” 

“I know that. I’m proud of you for standing up to his dad. I could never do that, he terrifies me.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure.” 

“What are you getting out of us dating? It’s not like you can take me to your parent’s house or those parties you attend.”

“Why the hell not?” 

“Gansey. Do you think your mom wants a Lynch tarnishing her party? Or at her dinner table?” 

“I don’t give a fuck what she wants. You can come with me anywhere, and I’ll keep you safe.” 

“You could take Adam but not me.” 

“That’s absolutely ridiculous, Ronan. I’m not dating Adam, I’m dating you. I like you, and everyone else will like you too. If they don’t it doesn’t matter. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ronan agrees, still unsure but not wanting to anger Gansey. “You like my sheets? They’re from Singapore, my grandmother bought them back for me.” 

“Yeah, they’re nice. Ronan, don’t deflect the conversation. Do you understand me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” Gansey shifts to hold him and after a few minutes his breathing evens out. Ronan stares at the wall for the majority of the night. Listening to his boys upstairs, and wondering if the guest room is comfortable enough for Adam. He slips out from Gansey around 3 AM, who rolls over on his side, and closes the door softly. He pads up the stairs past the sleeping mass of Kavinsky, Jiang, Skov, and Swan in the living room. Heads to the second floor, and unlocks the closet. He opens the door and it creaks, but when he looks in it’s just a white cramped space. No evidence of a child being shoved inside for days at a time. The carpet was redone and the walls painted fresh when he acquired the house. He was questioned mercilessly about why he wanted to stay in this house by the police and a therapist, but in the end, he was given the final say. He stands inside, head brushing the ceiling, exhaling and inhaling slowly, and ensures the door stays open. He slides down and wraps his arms around his knees. Facedown, he drifts off to a fitful sleep. 

When he wakes up, Adam is across from him, hugging his knees to his chest. Ronan nearly jumped out of his skin seeing the other boy. Adam reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder. Too late, he remembers his shirtless torso at the skin-to-skin contact. 

“I thought you might want some company. The bed was too soft anyway.” 

Ronan smiles and nods, grateful for his presence. “You like my old room?” His joke dies in his throat halfway through, making him feel foolish. Adam might be the only person who understands him, so there’s no reason to lie. “That was a stupid thing to say, sorry.” 

“It’s ok, Ronan. I knew my closet intimately as well.” 

Anger bristles toward his father again, and his eyes are drawn again to the fading imprints on Adam’s throat. He trails them lightly, and he runs his fingers along his jawbone. Adam lets him. In turn, he feels Adam’s hands running over his scars. Tracing the word on his skin, Adam’s face pinches together. He moves on without a word to Ronan’s ribcage. Ronan feels scars on Adam’s chest as well under the thin cotton t-shirt, his fingers ghosting the varying shapes. When they’re done, they hug their knees to their chest again. 

“Goodnight Ronan.” 

“Goodnight Adam.” 

Adam closes the door almost all the way, leaving an inch cracked for Ronan’s sake, and he listens to Adam’s breathing until he falls asleep. He hears the door creep open, and jolts awake, hitting Adam’s knees with his own in the process. Gansey leans down, handing Ronan his old tennis shirt, which he pulls on. He offers a hand to each of them and the two boys stand up, leaving the closet. 

-

“Hey, guys. It’s 9 AM. I wanted to wake you before Kavinsky did. Did you get any sleep?” 

Adam and Ronan nod in tandem. Gansey smiles and they make their way down to the kitchen. His boys are awake, making waffles, overly enthusiastic to see Ronan. Ronan smiles and jokes around with them. Adam and Kavinsky sit together on the couch, closer than Ronan likes, a flicker of worry passing over his face briefly before he smooths it. Gansey rubs his shoulders, as Jiang slides a plate toward him. 

“Blueberry, especially for you,” Jiang winks. 

“Why did you make us breakfast?” 

“You actually slept in your own house, it’s a celebration,” Skov taunts, flipping bacon in a non-stick pan. Swan laughs and wraps his arms around Skov. “We thought you’d never come home again.” 

“Home is a loose term.” 

“Yeah, yeah Lynch. The waffles are getting cold.” Bacon slides onto the plate. Adam, Gansey, and Kavinsky get plates filling in around the island. Skov, Swan, and Jiang sit at the kitchen table talking quietly amongst themselves. Kavinsky chews with his mouth open, merely to see Gansey’s lips curl in disgust. Ronan is unbothered, and Adam laughs. 

“Gansey says you want me to fix the BMW,” he squeaks out under laughter. “Just drive it to Boyd’s and we’ll take care of it.” 

“Alright, thanks.” 

“No problem, it shouldn’t take long.”

“What shall we do today?” 

“There’s a football game up at State tonight, anyone wanna come?” 

“Yeah, Skov, we can go up together.” Jiang dials a number, probably Ashley to see if she wants in. 

“Wanna come with Ronan?”

“No, thanks.” 

“Worried you’ll see your bro?” Swan digs and Ronan’s fork grates against his full plate, appetite gone. 

“He doesn’t go to State you stupid fuck, he already graduated college.” 

“Yeah, but didn’t he go there?” 

“Yes.” 

“So he might -” A sharp kick rings from under the table now and Swan shuts his mouth after a look from Skov. “Sorry.” 

“Just shut the hell up.” Ronan gets up, slamming his full plate into the sink and heading for the basement. 

“Take a chill pill, Lynch,” Kavinsky mutters under his breath as he passes. 

“My prescription ran out, wanna run to CVS and get more?” Ronan sneers in response and watches Kavinsky’s shoulders tense up. “Don’t tell me to take a chill pill, Kavinsky. You don’t know shit about me.” 

Jiang tosses a pill bottle toward them, and Ronan watches his name roll around as it stops. Gansey stares at it, reads the label, Paroxetine. He sits the bottle upright, silent. The entire kitchen stills and Jiang is the one to cut in. 

“You do need to take them, Ronan, when’s the last time you took it?” 

“Fuck off.” 

“You can’t just stop your medication whenever -”

“What? You suddenly turn into a Psychiatrist?”

“No, but -”

“Stop treating me like a fucking idiot.” 

“Ronan, we don’t want another accident.” 

Everyone stares at him, and watches him untwist the cap and down a small white capsule with his milk. “Happy?” 

“Yes, now take one a day like you’re supposed to, and I’ll be ecstatic.” 

“Stay out of my business, Jiang.” 

“Your mental health is my business, Lynch. Who else is going to handle your damn prescriptions? You clearly don’t give a shit. Where is the other medication?” 

“Gone.” His voice is hysterical, and he feels Gansey’s grip on his arm and is led outside to the Camaro. 

“What medications are you on?” 

“Paroxetine.” 

“What else?” 

“Eszopiclone, which I don’t use anymore.” 

“What are they for?”

Ronan flickers his eyes to Gansey’s boat shoes, shifting on his feet. “PTSD and Insomnia. You can’t take them with alcohol so I stopped taking them this summer. They didn’t work anyway.”

“Ronan, Jiang is right. You need to make an appointment with your psychiatrist again and tell them. You can’t stop that cold turkey.” 

“I’m perfectly fucking fine, Gansey.” 

“You slept in a closet last night, I hardly classify that as fine, Ronan. How often do you sleep there?” 

“A lot.” 

“Call your psychiatrist now.” Gansey hands him his phone and watches as he dials the number with shaky hands. 

“Dr. Patel,” he tells the perky secretary, “It’s Ronan Lynch. No, I’m not taking them. I see. Okay.” 

“I have to go on Monday at 1:30 and he’ll help. Happy?”

“Yes.” 

“Can we leave?” 

“Back to Monmouth?” 

“Anywhere but here, please.” 

-

They get into the Camaro, and Gansey heads to the highway. Ronan places his head against the glass and is lulled to sleep. The car stops abruptly and Ronan lurches awake. They’re at a rest stop in Virginia, still at least. “Potty break,” Gansey sing songs, coming around to open the door for Ronan. He follows him inside and they urinate. Gansey buys them questionable food and they get back into the car. The radio is on a classic rock station, and Gansey taps his hands on the steering wheel.

“Where are we going, Gansey?” 

“Washington.” 

“Why to see Declan?” 

“Feel free to call him up, but no. My family lives there and it’s time you met them.” 

“Um, not a good idea -”

“Eat.” Gansey pulls the Camaro out of the space and merges back onto the highway. He watches Gansey eat, but only manages two small bites, before hiding the rest out of Gansey’s sight. Ronan charges his phone on the way and texts Declan. Declan’s away on business in Arizona, shit. He informs Gansey and the boy chuckles. “Stuck with me then, Lynch. Get some more sleep it’ll take a while in this traffic to get there now.” 

When he wakes up, they’re still in traffic and he curls open his palm for the hibiscus he accidentally yanked out of his dream. Gansey looks at him quizzically, and Ronan slides down the window, watches it float down to the asphalt below them. He was stupid to fall asleep in the car, could have pulled something worse out. Like another Niall Lynch. He stays up for the rest of the ride, silent. Several minutes later, Gansey takes an exit and three back roads that curve dangerously. He pulls up in a posh neighborhood, in front of a larger mansion than Ronan’s. There’s two Mercedes sitting in the driveway, and an Audi at the curb.

Ronan gets out, brushing off his clothing. Looking like a homeless boy next to Gansey, in a faded t-shirt and jeans. Gansey is wearing chinos and a green polo. He throws the flannel back at Ronan from last night, and he buttons it. 

“Come on.” He follows Gansey up the path to the door, reminding him of a trip to the gallows. The doorbell chimes and Mrs. Gansey from the campaign commercials opens the door.

“Richard, what a, uhm, surprise to see you.” 

“I called Helen,” Gansey brushes past, dragging Ronan behind him, to stand in the hallway. “She said it’d be fine.” 

Ronan watches her nose scrunch up and wonders if a scar is visible. “This is Ronan Lynch, I told you about him.” 

“Yes, your - partner.” The word partner is said tersely and Ronan blushes. “It’s nice to meet you, dear,” her hand extends and Ronan shakes it. 

“Where’s dad?” 

“Well he has guests over at the club, so he won’t be home until later this evening. Helen is cooking in the kitchen, we’re making duck for dinner. Do you like duck, Ronan?” 

He’s never tried duck and shrugs his shoulders. 

“He’ll be fine with it, Mom.” 

“Wonderful.” She strides up the stairs, her departure leaving the hallway empty. Ronan lets out a long exhale, and sheepishly untangles hands with Gansey when they enter the kitchen. His grip leaving marks on the boy's hand. 

“Hey, squirt. Start peeling the potatoes. And you,” Helen points at Ronan with a wooden spoon, “chop up the celery for me, please.” 

Ronan obliges, helping with any part Helen asks him too. Despite rarely eating what he was cooking, he always enjoyed the prep work. Mrs. Gansey enters the kitchen, placing a kiss on Gansey’s head, and asks if Helen needs anything. She bastes the Duck and slides it into the oven. 

“And now we wait. So, Ronan, do you also attend Aglionby with Richard?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Maria is fine.” 

“Okay.” Ronan picks up a blown glass miniature Raven, he strokes it for a while as if petting it. The cool glass grounds him, and he tries to relax. 

“You met in classes then, Gansey?”

“Latin.” Actually they met during freshman orientation, but Ronan remains silent. He remembers that morning with clarity, a rare occasion of being sober, and that Gansey had shaken his hand. The ball of warmth that had spread from the contact, and Gansey’s easy smile. Adam had been by his side, and Ronan mistook the two as a couple. Gansey probably doesn’t remember. 

“ - to meet your father!” Ronan blinks, realizing he slipped away for too long. 

“We’ll see, mom.” Gansey glances at Ronan, gesturing to take the stack of four glass plates out of his hands. Ronan does, but his hands shake, and he watches one tumble to the ground and shatters. Helen gasps, and Ronan’s eyes widen in fear. Gansey’s mother re-enters the kitchen with cloth napkins, and her eyes are drawn to the mess. “I dropped it, mom, sorry.” He watches Gansey bend down, picking up the larger shards. Helen is silent and leaves the kitchen.

“Richard, do you have any idea -” Her tone is furious, yet she halts with one look at Ronan, “We will discuss this later.”

“Actually-” Ronan winces when Gansey squeezed his shoulder. 

Helen emerges with another plate, and Mrs. Gansey leaves for a broom and dustpan. The three finish setting the table, while Gansey cleans up his mess, shooting a cursory glance at Ronan reminding him to be silent. He nods, and Gansey dumps the glass into the trash can. He sits across from Ronan, with his mother and Helen at opposing heads of the table. He doesn’t touch the food on his plate, in an attempt to remain quiet. He watches the three eat and make small talk for the next hour. 

“I can make you a different dinner if you dislike duck,” Helen cuts in.

“No. It’s alright, I’ll just,” Ronan gets up and clears his plate washing the dishes in silence and placing them into a drying rack. He stands awkwardly after and then sits back at the table. He’s not sure which Gansey is more furious at the action, and he desperately wants to leave. “I’m - fresh air,” he murmurs getting up from the table. He stands at the curb, taking long drags of his cigarette when a man pulls up to the curb. He’s driving some classic car that probably costs more than his house, and when he steps out it’s like seeing the future version of Gansey. 

“Good evening, you must be Ronan Lynch. Richard Gansey II,” he extends his hand and Ronan shakes it. He inhales the rest of the cigarette tossing the remainder on the street. “Did you eat already? I had a roast at the club.”

“They made duck, there are leftovers.” 

“You and Richard then.”

“Unfortunately for you.” Richard laughs and lightly places a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re funny, Lynch. Like your brother. How is he?” 

“Well, how do you know him?”

“I’m a criminal lawyer, often opposing him in court.”

“I see.”

“Come back inside, won’t you? What led you here, too much estrogen?”

“I dropped a plate, and the evening went downhill after that.” Ronan glances down at the man’s feet. 

“She has enough plates, she’ll survive.”

Ronan follows him inside, a young man cleaning up their plates, the Gansey’s in the living room. Gansey stands up to shake his father’s hand, both Helen and Mrs. Gansey kiss his cheek. Ronan sits next to Gansey, and Richard sits across from the children. 

“Ronan didn’t touch his dinner,” Helen states immediately, in an accusatory tone, “So I had Juan toss the leftovers.” His face burns in shame, and he kicks at the rug covering the wooden floor with the toe of his shoe.

“We had a late lunch,” Gansey supplies, “He must not have been hungry.”

“Regardless, it was hardly necessary to scrape it into the trash!” Clearly Helen has anger issues.

“He was trying to be helpful!”

“Settle down, children. We have company. Perhaps he simply wasn’t hungry as Gansey suggested, Helen. You take things too personally. Smile.” Ronan glances up, looking at her mouth twist from a frown into a dazzling smile. “Better.”

“Dear, my plate from Brazil was broken tonight. The set of the four blown glass ones?”

“I heard. I suppose we could ship in a new one,” He glances at Ronan, “if you need it.”

“Of course I do! Gansey offered to pay for it since he dropped it.” Mr. Gansey and Helen both meet his eyes. 

“Actually mother -”

“I heard differently.” 

Gansey squeezes Ronan’s hand. “Mother, couldn’t you just take it out of my account?”

“What did you hear, honey?” She cuts over Gansey.

“Lynch told me he dropped it, and that’s why he went outside.”

“He did drop it,” Helen supplies smirking.

“You lied, Richard?”

“Mom. It doesn’t matter! He’s not paying for it, it was an accident, so just write yourself a check.”

“Ronan, is that true?” 

He clears his throat abruptly standing up, “May I use the restroom?” 

“Show him where it is, Gansey.” Richard waves his hand dismissively, Mrs. Gansey beginning to seethe.

Gansey takes his hand, dragging him past several doors, to a suite size bathroom. He sits on the edge of a ridiculously large bathtub, while Ronan pees. 

“You told my father?”

“I thought I could get it over with, and I didn’t want you to pay for my mistakes.”

“Not your decision to make, Ronan.”

“Could we go? I feel humiliated and want to go home.” Tears trail down his face, and he doesn’t wipe them. Gansey pulls him in close.

“Let’s go. I’m sorry, Ronan.” 

They leave the bathroom after he washes his face, heading back to the living room. “Thanks for dinner, Mom. We’re heading out.”

“Now? What about dessert?”

“Raincheck.”

“Well, ok. Goodbye dear, don’t worry about the plate, Ronan. I hope to see you again soon. Perhaps at the gala next month?” 

“I don’t -”

“It’s settled then,” Mrs. Gansey kisses his cheek. She kisses Gansey’s cheek as well. Helen and his father wave goodbye. He says goodbye, trailing behind Gansey to the front door down to the Camaro. Ronan visibly relaxes at the familiar leather clinging to his forearms, and Gansey kisses his forehead before driving away. 

“That went much better than my ex-girlfriend.” 

Ronan laughs lightly, and Gansey glances at him briefly. He doesn’t respond otherwise, leaning his head against the window once again, falling under the spell of sleep. Gansey is the only thing that lets him sleep outside the closet, and he’s terrified at the meaning behind this final thought before he’s out.

-

He dreams of an empty field, naked and alone. In this dream, his body is free of his scars. Pure, pale skin adorns him, and he feels weightless. When he turns, he feels the rough wood against his back, crammed into the closet. Now his scars are back, along with the searing pain each one had caused when inflicted. He screams, banging his fists against the closet door until blood streaks the door, his hands going limp in pain. The door opens abruptly, then he’s falling endlessly, the only sound his hitching sobs marking the descent. After an eternity, his impacts against water. Declan is giving him a bath, even though he’s far too old now. His father comes in and shoos Declan out. Ronan opens his mouth, but a hand clamps down over his lips, allowing only soft whimpers to escape. The scene merges again, this time to his father at his desk. Ronan stands there, stiff as a board, watching his father’s eyes trail over his report card. Wincing at the D in biology, and waiting for the blow. Instead, he’s headed back to the closet again, dragged kicking and screaming, unable to break the grip of Niall Lynch. He wonders how many days this punishment will last, without food or water or anywhere to go to the bathroom. Like a stray animal. When will his father put him down? When the closet lurches open, and his shoulder impacts with the back wall, he sees Adam already inside. His father locks the door, and the two sit in pitch black allowing their eyes to adjust before speaking. 

“Adam,” Ronan whispers, “Why are you here?” 

“Ronan,” Adam’s voice sounds too deep, “It’s Declan.” He waits and sees Declan now, clearer as his eyes have fully adjusted. 

“Why are you here?”

“To save you.” Ronan’s stomach clenches, and he pulls his knees up to his chest. 

“Save yourself,” he whispers back, “I’m not worth saving.” 

Declan fades away, melting into Gansey. “Ronan, it’s Gansey.” 

“What? Why are you here?” 

“Wake up.” 

“Huh? I asked why are you here.” 

“Wake up, Ronan!” 

He bolts upright, Gansey’s palm flat against his chest with just enough pressure to keep him from hitting his head on the roof of the Camaro. He lies there drenched in sweat, clutching something in his hand that terrifies him to look at. He shoves it into his pocket to examine later, without Gansey’s scrutiny. 

“Here,” a water bottle is passed to him, and a pack of crackers. “Are you allergic to peanuts?”

“No.” 

“Okay, it’s peanut butter crackers, just making sure.”

“Where are we?” 

“Your house.” He glances off to the side of the road, and sure enough, sees his BMW. The blemish is gone, the black paint back to normal. His boys are gone, presumably to the State college game. It’s 10:32 PM according to Gansey’s dashboard. “Let’s go inside.” 

Ronan nods but waits for Gansey to open the door. Even after he does, he still is unable to move, and Gansey wrenches him out of the car, weightless. He sits Ronan at the counter, opening the fridge, wrinkling his nose at the empty spaces. The freezer yields better results, and he pulls out a frozen lasagna. Ronan is silent watching him preheat the oven, open the lasagna box and peeling back the film. Putting it inside and pushing 35 minutes on the timer. Then he takes Ronan to the bathroom downstairs, stripping their clothes off and leads both into the shower. It’s not meant for two people, so the boys have to stand chest to chest in the cramped space. He washes Ronan’s body, then his own. He shampoos Ronan’s hair, massaging his scalp, and conditions it. Then he does the same for himself. Rinses them both off, then reaches around Ronan to turn off the shower dial. A heavy cotton towel is wrapped around him, and he buries his face into it. Gansey dries him off, then himself. Clothes are a white t-shirt and blue pajama pants for Ronan, a black t-shirt and sweatpants for Gansey. When they arrive back upstairs, only 5 minutes are left on the oven timer. Gansey places more water in front of him, and he downs the water in one fluid motion. Another full glass is set in front of him, continuously until his thirst is satisfied. Then a heaping plate is set in front of him, his stomach grumbling at the sight of food, and he eats it frantically. Nervous the plate will disappear if he isn’t fast enough, a reflex action from a difficult childhood. Gansey watches him eat in silence until the last bite is gone. 

“More?”

“A little.” 

Another portion, a more manageable chunk, is slid over to him. Gansey silently watches him eat, water once again in front of him. When this plate is gone, Gansey lifts an eyebrow. 

“More?” 

“No, thanks.” 

“Would you like to talk about the dream, Ronan?” 

“It was too confusing to explain. And you wouldn’t like it. It was just childhood memories that are better off buried.” 

“If you need me, I’m here, Ronan.” 

“I need you to take me to bed, and hold me until I fall asleep.” 

“Lead the way.” Gansey actually cleans the dishes and counter first, ensuring the stove is off, before turning to Ronan. “Take water down.” He does, walking to the basement door, past the darkness to his room. Gansey crawls under the covers, and Ronan ensures the door is locked, checking it three times. Satisfied he presses his back against Gansey’s chest, out instantly. His dreams are sweet, endless dates with Gansey. Unrealistic in that they don’t end in catastrophe, but sweet nonetheless. 

In the middle of the night, Gansey is gone, the bed cold, and the door is open. Ronan’s chest tightens into a ball in fear, wondering who is around, vulnerable. Gansey comes back, locking the door behind him, and slides back into bed. 

“Ronan? Are you okay?”

“I thought you left me.” 

“Bathroom,” Gansey looks worried, “Any more bad dreams?” 

“Nice ones this time, who knows what will happen now.” Gansey nods, pulling Ronan toward his chest. He rubs his back until the ball loosens, breathing becoming manageable again. 

“You have no mirrors in the house, do you?” 

“I don’t like seeing myself, so no, I had them all removed before moving back in.” 

“I like seeing you.” 

“Good for you, let’s keep that one-sided and I’ll be good to go.” Gansey lets out a small laugh at this. 

“Did you hate my family?” 

“I think I left a piss-poor impression on them.”

“Nah, you were just scared. I shouldn’t have forced you to meet them.” 

“At least it’s over with now,” Gansey nods his head, “But you kept me safe like you promised so that counts for something.” 

“My promises mean everything to me, I won’t let you down.” 

Ronan drifts off again, the lightness in his chest unfamiliar to him. It might be hope, a dangerous thing for him. No dreams this time, and he sleeps through the night. 

-

At 8 AM, Gansey’s phone rings, and Ronan groans at the noise. He feels the sheets rustle as Gansey presses the phone to his ear, a murmured hello. Gansey leaves the room, apologetically glancing at Ronan. He lies awake, checking his messages. He deems them unworthy of response and dials Kavinsky’s number instead. Several rings occur, and Ronan is ready to hang up when the call connects.

“Lynch? It’s Sunday morning, I’m trying to sleep.” 

“Kavinsky.” 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

“Where are you?”

“State. Where’s Gansey?” 

“With me.”

“Parrish is here if that’s what you called about.” 

“No - I just - I’m sorry about yesterday. For hitting you, and arguing.” 

“Oh. I don’t care, Lynch. It’s all good.” He hears Adam murmur in the background and muffled shouts from Jiang ring out. “Parrish wants you.” The phone is static until it’s pressed against Adam’s ear. 

“Yeah, Adam?”

“You ok? Where did you go yesterday?” 

“D.C. to the Gansey’s.” He remembers the plate shattering and involuntarily flinches. “It didn’t go well.” 

“You need me to come back?”

“No, Gansey is here somewhere, I’m fine.” 

“Closet fine, or bed fine?” 

“Bed fine.” A slow exhale leaves Adam. 

“Ok good.”

“You know just because Gansey and I are together doesn’t mean we have to be BFFs, Adam.” He retorts, remembering their conversation Friday. 

“Fuck off, Lynch. I didn’t mean that. We are friends.”

“See you later then, friend.”

“Bye.” 

Ronan hangs up, sighing in relief, feeling whole after hearing Adam’s voice. He showers and dresses, making his way to the kitchen. Gansey’s flipping pancakes, and bacon. Still on the phone, likely Mrs. Gansey. 

“We’ll talk later,” he sees Ronan in his peripheral vision, “Bye, Dad.” The phone is set on the counter. “Grab two plates and set the table, breakfast is almost ready.” Ronan complies, and three pancakes are stacked up on his plate. 

“You feed me like a horse, Gansey.”

“I never see you eat unless I feed you, Ronan. Even at lunch, everyone else eats, but you never get a tray. Why?” As if to emphasize his point, Gansey slams his discarded meager attempt at lunch from yesterday on the island, guilt clenching his chest. 

“That’s personal.” The last thing he wants to do is argue with another Gansey after the fiasco yesterday. He can’t let Gansey find out that he usually eats once a day after Jiang harasses him enough. “Don’t worry, Gansey.”

“I always worry about you. Eat it all, please. Did you skip all three meals yesterday? What would you have eaten if I hadn’t made lasagna?”

Ronan shrugs in a non-committal way, Gansey groaning in annoyance. 

Gansey eats too but keeps his gaze focused on each bite Ronan takes. He chews slowly, counting to 24 before swallowing. It’s agonizingly slow and he feels tortured by the time the last bite of pancakes slides down his esophagus. The way he likes to feel after eating, shame weighing his gut down more than the excess calories. 

Plate empty, he slides it to Gansey, who finished 20 minutes ago. The kitchen is filled with the sounds of empty dishes being washed in the sink, Ronan unsure why he bothers when Lila will be by Thursday. He watches Gansey’s muscles tense and relax under his t-shirt until he’s panting. Gansey turns around, fingers dripping water down onto the cool tile beneath his bare feet. 

“What?” 

“Want to make out?” 

“No shit, Ronan.” 

Ronan leads him down to the recliner, from their second date, thoughts tumbling over the brushing of Gansey’s lips over his cheeks. Gansey takes his shirt off, Ronan keeping his on, but Gansey’s hand slips up under the thin material. The kisses are slow and gentle, the taste of mint driving him insane with lust, and Gansey’s hands trail over his back, causing his breath to hitch. He places his hand under the band of the sweatpants, wrapping his hand around Gansey’s dick, feeling the reverb of the moan in his mouth. Ronan gives the handjob to the point of teasing, taking Gansey close to the edge and then dialing back. Gansey lets out an alternating cycle of moans and irritated sighs. Just when Gansey is at the edge, he pulls his hand out, causing a juvenile whine to pass Gansey’s lips. 

“Ronan, Christ, are you kidd -”

Ronan wraps his lips around Gansey’s dick and cuts off the rest of the thought. Gansey fucks his mouth again, Ronan’s curls weaved into his fist, and the sensation is better than Kavinsky’s lines. After four thrusts, Gansey yells out his name in a strangled cry and hot cum hits the back of his throat. Ronan half swallows and half chokes on it, the feeling so good he can’t be bothered to care. Gansey’s face is still scrunched up when he tucks himself back in, and Ronan wonders if he would mind a kiss. Or is that weird? Why is he overthinking this?

Gansey answers for him, tugging Ronan up for a hard kiss. His head is spinning and he feels drunk from the kiss. Fingers trail over his body light enough to leave him desperate, payback for his treatment of Gansey earlier. Every signal ignites inside him, heat curling in his abdomen, his erection straining in the sweatpants. 

“Now what, Lynch?” He’s unsure, so just keeps kissing Gansey instead of answering. “You want to fuck me?” 

This question is absurd, and Ronan bites Gansey’s bottom lip in surprise. Him, fucking Gansey? There’s no contest which boy should top, and Ronan sinks with the realization that Kavinsky was right at the lunch table. 

“I can’t do that, Gansey.” 

“Because you don’t want to or because you agree with Kavinsky?” 

“I - I don’t know. You know how it should be, Gansey. You’re a - a king.” 

“And I’m asking you to fuck me, care to oblige?” 

Gansey takes his hand and leads him to the bed. He thinks about the last time he was fucked and is nervous. He’s never tried fucking someone else instead, and also he’s never done it with someone who cared about him before. He gets undressed with Gansey, hoping he won’t lose his nerve if he’s naked. Gansey leads him to the bed gently, splaying out for Ronan. He gulps, settling between Gansey’s thighs. Ronan holds his hand up and Gansey says two.

He remembers how to do this, and he lubes his fingers, stretching Gansey’s entrance with a scissoring motion. Gansey moans loudly when he curls his fingers to the left. Ronan hits it again and a louder moan leaves him. 

“Is that okay?” 

“Yeah, I think.” 

Ronan adds a third finger just in case, repeating the process. He doesn’t want to hurt Gansey, and it hurts if you’re not ready. “Just relax when I put it in, it’ll hurt less.” 

“Okay,” Gansey isn’t really listening, so he removes his fingers, a groan leaving Gansey. He lubes his dick, Gansey said no to a condom. He sighs heavily, his nerves causing his hands to shake again. “Do you want me to help you, Ronan?” He nods. 

Gansey leads his dick, lining it up with his entrance and pushes down slowly. Ronan nearly chokes, the heat and pressure surrounding him are overwhelming his senses. When he’s inside, Gansey tells him to thrust now. He does, hard and fast, most of the time focusing on not orgasming in the first five minutes. He places his head on Gansey’s shoulder, breathing in mint and citrus from his neck, grounding him to the situation. Gansey moans, and Ronan stays quiet, letting out occasional near-silent sighs of pleasure. 

“You ok, honey?” 

“Yeah, it feels really good.” 

“Okay, good. Do you want to look at me?” 

“No, I just want to smell you.” 

Gansey laughs, “Ok, what do I smell like?” 

Ronan feels heat curl down his spine when he thrusts and has to control his breathing before answering. 

“Mint and Citrus.” 

“You smell like Strawberries and Vanilla.” 

“Really?” Ronan blushes even though Gansey can’t see his face. “I’m glad we smell nice.” Gansey laughs again. 

“You’re my favorite person, Gansey.” 

“You’re my favorite person, too, Ronan.” 

He thrusts more, this time hitting Gansey’s prostate, and there’s no more talking. The room fills with strangled cries from Gansey and nails scrape down his back causing a quiet moan to leave him. He closes his eyes tight, burying his face into the crook of Gansey’s shoulder. When he cums, he clings to Gansey’s waist. Gansey cums shortly after Ronan. He helps Ronan pull out and the cum spills on his sheets. 

“Let’s get a shower ok?” 

“Okay.” 

“How do you feel, Ronan?”

“Good,” Gansey takes him to the shower. 

-

He washes Ronan’s hair, massaging his scalp, and Ronan whines in pleasure. They wash their bodies, and Ronan massages Gansey’s scalp too with the shampoo. Gansey wraps Ronan up in a thick towel, drying him off gently. When he’s dry, Gansey uses it on himself. 

“Good?” 

“Good,” Ronan hugs him tight. “I love you.” 

Gansey takes a beat longer to answer, making Ronan nervous. 

“I love you too, Ronan.” 

They dress in new sweatpants, and cotton t-shirts. Curling up in the recliner again, Ronan puts on It’s a Wonderful Life. It’s a really good movie, it makes him cry a lot and Gansey holds him through it. 

When the end credits roll, he hears the loud clamor of boys entering upstairs. Ronan gets up, stretching and Gansey follows him upstairs. Kavinsky and Adam are making lunch, laughing loudly. Skov and Swan disappear into a guest bedroom. Jiang sits on the counter, scrolling through his phone. 

“That shit gives you cancer, Jiang. Radiation.” 

“Hi, Lynch. How are you?”

“Good. I’m going to the Psychiatrist tomorrow.” 

“Really, that’s great,” Jiang looks up, now a loose smile on his face, “Maybe Gansey is useful.” 

“Thanks, it means a lot coming from you.” Gansey punctuates with a middle finger. Jiang blows him a kiss. 

Adam abandons Kavinsky and gives Ronan an excessively tight hug. “Hey.” 

“Hi, did you miss me or something?” 

“Or something,” Ronan smiles. 

“Haha. None of you fuckers missed me?” 

“Nah,” Jiang and Kavinsky reply simultaneously. Ronan flips them off again. “I missed Gansey though,” Kavinsky draws out the word Gansey. 

“Me too.” Adam chimes in. “I love being yelled at!” Gansey shoots Adam a dirty look, wrapping an arm around Ronan’s waist. 

“And I love to yell at you,” Gansey responds. Adam grins again. There’s a knock at the door and Adam gets it. It’s Noah. 

“Heard the party was here now.” 

“Yeah, come in.” 

“‘Sup, Lynch?”

“Nothing,” he shifts uncomfortably toward Gansey.

“Can we talk, Noah?” Gansey says it casually, but there’s an irritated undertone that Noah picks up on. He nods and Ronan watches them walk downstairs. 

Kavinsky slides pasta over and Ronan pushes it around his plate, pretending to eat. It sounds like Noah and Gansey are screaming now, and Adam glances toward the basement, fiddling with his fork. He’s not eating either, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. Noah slams open the basement door, fuming, and heads for the island where Ronan is. Oh fuck.

“You are such a pussy, Lynch!” 

Gansey pulls him away by the arm, pushing him toward the front door. “Don’t fucking speak to him, if you ever call him that again I’m going to kill you.” Kavinsky’s eyes widen, and Jiang smirks. Adam balks. Ronan is blushing furiously, he didn’t even - 

“It’s already there! What does it matter?” His stomach clenches and shame overwhelms him, tears starting to fall.

Now Adam understands and he strides over to Noah. Gansey looks at him confused, and Adam slaps Noah hard. “You piece of shit!” 

Skov and Swan stumble out of the guest room, Kavinsky cocks his head, and Skov wraps Ronan up in a hug, rocking him back and forth the way he did to Adam. He can’t see anything now, enveloped into Skov’s chest. He hears the door slam and jumps. 

“Wasn’t that fun,” Kavinsky says. 

“Shut up,” Swan yells back. “What happened, Pretty Boy?” 

“Nothing that I can tell you guys about.” 

“Keeping secrets for Lynch?” 

“Mmhm.” Skov releases him and Gansey fills in. He feels better when he smells citrus, burrowing into Gansey’s neck again. He hears forks grating plates, and the boys must be eating lunch. Trying to ease the tension. “Time to eat, Ronan.” He opens his mouth to argue but closes it. Gansey’s already pissed. 

He twirls the pasta around, pretending to eat. Jiang narrows his eyes, used to his games. “Mouth, Ronan. Put it in your mouth, now.” 

“That’s what she said,” Kavinsky snorts at his own joke, Jiang ignores him, waiting for an answer. 

“I ate breakfast!”

“Congratulations. Now you’re eating lunch.” 

“That’s not how it -” He cuts himself off, remembering Gansey doesn’t know about their deal. “Fine.” He cuts the pasta into impossibly small pieces, taking a painstaking amount of time. Gansey waits patiently, Jiang rolls his eyes. The rest of his boys are talking loudly, purposefully ignoring the argument. 

He lifts the fork up to his mouth, wincing as the pasta slides down his throat. It’s slimy, and he doesn’t like the texture. He makes a face. 

“It’s that or something else, Lynch. But you’re eating. Besides, how do I know you ate breakfast and aren’t lying to me again?”

“Because Gansey sat and watched me eat.” Gansey nods. 

“Fine, don’t eat then.” Jiang takes the full plate and slams it into the sink, breaking it. “Fucking ridiculous, Ronan! It’s like pulling your teeth out every day. Why don’t you want to eat?” Jiang’s voice gets louder with each sentence. 

Now it can’t be ignored and all eyes are on him. 

“Calm down, Jiang.” 

“You know what Gansey, you guys have been dating for a fucking week, stop acting like you had to deal with him for the past four years! Just because you’re fucking him, doesn’t mean shit. In fact, you should know how thin he is since he won’t let us see him without clothes on.” 

“Jiang, chill,” Skov says. Swan agrees with a nod. 

“If Lynch doesn’t want to eat, let him starve. The fuck is it our problem for?”

“Shut up, K. You’re new too, and don’t say shit, Adam.” Adam closes his mouth. 

“What does Gansey even have to do with it?” Swan inquires. 

Ronan slams his fists down onto the table. “I’m right here, okay!” 

“Now you want to fucking speak huh? You’re comfortable with always letting other people defend you, but when you’ve had enough you can suddenly speak? Jesus, Ronan. Look at what happened to Proko, what did he do that was unloyal?”

“I -”

“Answer me.” Kavinsky is interested now. 

“He was disrespectful to me!” 

“I’m being disrespectful, are you going to send nudes of me around the fucking school?” 

“This is totally different, ok!” 

“Oh for fuck's sake, I can’t -” Jiang grabs the key to his Golf, and heads to the door. He slams it on the way out. Every pair of eyes in the room meets his. 

“What?” He screams. 

“You seriously need your meds, dude,” Skov says. “You’ll feel better.”

“Why are you all so obsessed with my fucking meds?”

“Because they help you,” Swan chimes in. “And we care about you, Ronan.”

“What are you going to eat, Ronan?” 

“Nothing.” 

“That’s not a fucking option,” Gansey slams his open palm onto the marble countertop, “Try again.”

Kavinsky snarls, “Apparently he hates my pasta.”

“He hates all food,” Skov replies, “I wouldn’t take it personally, K. It’s really good.”

Ronan sighs, picking a banana off the counter, holding it up to Gansey. “What else, Ronan?” He sighs heavily opening the mostly empty fridge. Nothing he likes is in there, and the freezer is empty. 

“Just this.” One look from Gansey tells him this is the wrong answer. “I don’t see anything else! Jiang threw my pasta away.”

Adam watches Ronan carefully. The pasta on his plate is half gone now. 

“How about this banana, and I’ll eat dinner.” 

“What? That makes no sense, you’re already eating dinner!” 

“Since when!”

“Since always, what the hell?” 

“I eat once a day, Gansey.” This slips out without intention, and the color drains from Gansey’s face. 

“What do you mean?”

“I eat one meal a day.” 

“You’re eating three meals from now on, that’s ridiculous. Who told you that was okay?”

“Jiang!”

“Jiang’s your friend, not a damn doctor!”

“Ronan you have to eat more,” Adam shoves the rest of his pasta toward him. 

“I don’t want pasta!” Ronan yells, sliding it back. Adam flinches. 

“Get in the car, _ now,_” Gansey yells. “NOW.” 

Ronan follows Gansey out, embarrassed to be treated like a little kid. 

“You tell me what you want to eat, and I’ll get it. Or I can drive you to the hospital and tell them you refuse to eat, and you can get a tube shoved down your throat.” Ronan inhales sharply, vividly remembering the last time that happened. He shakes in the seat, feeling dizzy.

“Now.” Gansey grips the steering wheel with all of his strength. 

“Pizza.”

Gansey speeds off toward Nino’s, and Ronan fiddles with the leather bands on his wrist. Gansey gets there in ten minutes and slams the car into park. “Come on,” he slams the door behind him, waiting at the entrance. 

Ronan follows him inside, and they go to his booth. Blue is working and brings two glasses of water, cheerful today. 

“What’s up, Gansey?” 

“I already ate, Ronan needs lunch. Order, now.” She tenses at his tone, turning toward Ronan. 

“A slice.” 

“Okay,” She stalks off to the counter. She’s back with the slice a moment later, placing it in front of Ronan. “There you are.” She walks away at a brisk pace. 

“Eat every bite.”

He does, and after thirty minutes he finishes. Gansey slams $15 on the table and they leave. Ronan waves bye to Blue, and she waves back. 

They get back into the Camaro. 

“Ronan, I need you to eat.”

“I did, Gansey.”

“Three times a day, every day.”

“Okay.” 

“I’ll help but you have to work with me, and stop fighting everyone. We all want you to be safe and healthy, Ronan.”

“What happened with Noah?” Might as well open the can of worms further at this point. 

“You somehow neglected to mention that he called you a whore.” 

“I knew you would freak!” 

“I don’t want you around him anymore. I’m really pissed, he might have to stay with your brother for a while. I don’t know yet.”

“I’m sorry -”

“Ronan, why do you lie to me so much?” 

He leans back against the headrest closing his eyes. “Because you’ll stop loving me.” 

“That’s what you think? If I find out something I don’t like, I won’t love you? That’s not how it works, Ronan.”

“Love is conditional.”

Gansey leans over and lightly pulls his head to face him. He gives Ronan a kiss. “You can tell me anything.” 

“Kavinsky blew me that day at school when I punched you.” 

“Ok. He kind of announced that at lunch and we weren’t together.” 

“Right.”

“Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Proko kept trying to sleep with me. He used to give me blowjobs when I was high, but he wanted more. I didn’t. That’s why I didn’t want him around anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Ronan.”

“It’s not like I could tell Jiang that.”

“I see. Well, he’s not my biggest fan or I would offer to explain it.”

“He’s just jealous that I listen to you instead of him.” 

“Well, you like me more, I can’t help that.” Gansey kisses his forehead. 

“Exactly.” 

“Alright, are you ready to go back?” 

“Not really. Can we go somewhere else? Not your house.” 

Gansey laughs, “Yeah we can go to the beach if you want.”

“No, I hate the beach.” 

“You can wear a shirt.” 

“No sorry, it’s too risky.” 

“Ok, I know somewhere more private then.” 

-

Gansey pulls out, and they head to the highway, getting off at an exit Ronan doesn’t recognize. They pull into a wooded area, and the Camaro is the only car around. Private property is tacked onto some trees, and Ronan looks at Gansey. 

“Are we allowed here?” 

“I own it,” Gansey replies getting out.

“Oh okay,” Ronan answers softly. 

They have to walk through the woods for a while, before a clearing appears, a large pond taking up the center of it. Gansey undresses down to his briefs and Ronan does as well. 

“Is the pond deep?” 

“It’s like 20 feet, I think.” Ronan gulps. “Why?” 

“I don’t really know how to swim.” 

“What does that mean?”

“I never went swimming.” 

“Oh, well you can stay with me, I’ll hold you. But I’ll show you how to float just in case.” Ronan nods. 

Gansey is patient, telling Ronan to kick his feet and use his arms to stay up. He swims to Gansey a few times, and he doesn’t sink. The rest of the afternoon he clings onto Gansey, and they get out around 4 PM. Ronan lays out on the grass next to Gansey and falls asleep.

“Ronan time for dinner, let’s head back, okay?” 

Ronan startles awake, holding a ring, and Gansey gives him a funny look. 

“Where’d you get that?” 

“Um, it’s for you.” He holds it out, turning pink. 

Gansey puts it on his ring finger, it’s a steel-colored band. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, sure.” God, he has to get ahold of himself or Gansey’s going to think he’s insane. The dream was nice, a candlelit dinner where he proposed to Gansey afterward. 

“You ready?” Gansey clears his throat, still looking at the band. 

“Yes. You can chuck it in the water.” 

“Huh?” Gansey looks up, confused. “No, I like it, Ronan.”

He takes his hand, leading him back to the car, Ronan trips once but Gansey steadies him. Once they’re in the car, Gansey tenses up again. 

“I don’t want to argue, ok? What would you be willing to eat for dinner?” 

“I don’t know, where do you want to eat?” 

“Somewhere you’ll eat. Do you want to go back to Nino’s?” 

Ronan shakes his head. Gansey sighs. “How about Taco Shack?” 

Ronan shakes his head again. 

“Is there any food you like eating, or is everything terrible?” 

“Everything sucks.” 

“Then we can go to Nino’s.” Ronan nods, not wanting to make Gansey mad. 

When they head to Nino’s, they sit in the same booth. Noah comes over and Ronan grabs Gansey’s hand to soothe him.

“So you’re here for lunch and dinner?”

“Yep.” 

“And you won’t let me sit here?” 

“Nope.” 

Noah rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ronan.” 

“I don’t care,” he answers quietly afraid Gansey will argue over him anyway. “It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s actually not.” 

“Well considering he forgave me, maybe you should too, Gansey.” 

“Maybe. You can leave though.” 

Noah gives up, sulking away. 

“Just let it go, Gansey. It doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters to me, so no.” 

“I don’t want you to stop being friends with him because of me.” 

“It’s not you, Ronan. He made his choice, now he can deal with the consequences.”

Ronan nods again, he doesn’t feel like arguing. 

“What are you going to eat?” 

“A slice.” 

“More than a slice, what about pasta?” 

“I hate pasta.” 

“This is an Italian restaurant.”

“I come here to you.” Gansey looks down at the table, flushed. 

“Well then let’s go somewhere else.” 

“No! I’ll eat two slices.” 

“And a side salad,” Gansey tacks on. 

“Okay.” 

Blue is still there and comes over, nervous. “Hi,” she places two glasses of water down. 

“Hi, Blue. I apologize for my rudeness this afternoon. Can we get a small pizza and a side salad.” 

“Sure, Gansey.” 

“Hi, Blue.” 

“Hi, Ronan, how are you, uh, doing?” 

“I’m still alive.” 

“Me too,” Blue heads back to put in their order. 

She comes back with a salad, “Do you want salad dressing?” 

“No, thanks.” 

He cuts the lettuce up into small pieces and swallows it down. When the pizza comes, Gansey puts two slices on his plate, and he cuts it up into small squares. After 30 minutes, he makes it through the slices. Gansey sits on his phone after he’s finished eating, pretending not to watch Ronan eat. 

“I’m done.” Gansey looks up. 

“Alright, ready?”

“Ready.” 

“I need to get something at home, but we should go back since Adam is there.” 

“Okay.” 

Gansey heads upstairs, telling Ronan to wait in the car. After 10 minutes, he comes back to the car. He chews on a mint leaf, and hands Ronan a small box. “What is this?” 

“Open it.” 

It’s a small glass raven, and Ronan recognizes it from Gansey’s house. “You liked that right?” 

Ronan nods, smiling. “My Dad said you could have it, as a peace offering.”

“Thanks, Gansey. I’ll put it on my dresser.”

“Cool.” Gansey reverses, heading back to Ronan’s. 

-

When they get there, the boys are high as kites, Adam looking significantly sober curled up to Kavinsky’s chest. Laughter fills the living room, and Kavinsky makes eye contact with Ronan. 

“Did you find better food, Princess?”

“Yeah,” Ronan says, sitting down on the chair next to Gansey. 

“Now Jiang and Daddy can stop throwing hissy fits, I guess.” 

“Uh-huh,” Ronan says rolling his eyes.

“I’ll let you starve to death, don’t worry.” Ronan snorts, but Gansey shoots a warning glance at Kavinsky. Kavinsky smirks, raising his middle finger to Gansey. 

Jiang stares at Ronan but remains silent. He’s waiting for an apology, Ronan knows. 

“Come out back,” Ronan gets up and touches his shoulder. When they’re outside, Jiang keeps looking at him expectantly. “Look, I’m sorry. I appreciate your help, really. It’s just hard for me, but I’ll try harder to control my temper okay?”

He keeps looking. 

“Proko and I had private issues, that I’m not comfortable talking about. I’m not proud of the dick pic or that he’s in the hospital, but he said himself that he wanted out. It wasn’t my decision from there.” 

Jiang’s expression finally softens, and Ronan exhales in relief. “Fine, I still think you’re a douchebag.” He holds out his fist and Ronan bumps it. 

“I am.” 

“You gonna eat?” 

“Yes, I ate all three meals today.” 

“A milestone for you, congratulations.”

“Thanks, it fucking sucked.” Jiang laughs, and Ronan smiles. 

“Look, I was just irritated Ronan, I’m not your mom, man. I don’t want you to die at 16 though, you understand?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Cool, let’s go inside so we can stop talking about our feelings. That’s Gansey’s department now.”

When the two head back in, Gansey smiles at Ronan and he nods. “Let’s go out.” 

Skov jumps up excitedly, startling Swan. “BRO finally!” Kavinsky cackles and stands up, stretching. 

“Bringing our boyfriends I suppose?” Kavinsky asks looking at Ronan. 

“Yeah, I’m surprised you could even get one.” 

“Haha Lynch, so cute.” The boy is unbothered popping two green pills into his mouth, offering more to Adam, who declines. Jiang holds out his hand, and so does Ronan. “You sure you have permission for these?” 

“Shut up, K,” Kavinsky smirks, dumping two into his palm. Gansey’s lips are in a tight line, but he says nothing as Ronan downs them. “What do they do anyway?”

“Maybe you should have asked before taking it,” Skov points out and Ronan glares. 

“Your blue highlights are fading, surfer boy.” 

“I have an appointment tomorrow at noon, asshole.”

“Thank God! I was super worried about your hair.” 

“It is beautiful,” Kavinsky croons, reaching out to touch it. 

“Answer my question, K.” 

“What question dumbass?” 

“The pills…”

“Oh, word. You can have some,” Kavinsky goes to dump more in his hand.

“No, crackhead what are the pills _ for _.” 

“For? To have fun, Lynch. I made them myself.” 

Gansey furrows his brows together in what Ronan reads as a concern. 

“Well we should all have fun,” Skov says, and Ronan watches K pour two in him and Swan’s outstretched hands. 

“No, thanks,” Gansey says. 

“Didn’t you smoke with us?”

“Different.”

“Fine, more for me.” Kavinsky smiles blissfully. “Now I need some coke before we go.” 

“You really don’t,” Ronan tries even as he observes K cutting four straight lines on the coffee table. “I’m driving you,” Ronan exclaims as K snorts the lines. 

“Okay,” K responds, more nasally than normal which Ronan didn’t think was possible. 

“Actually, I, the sober person will be driving. You’re going to let them drive buzzed, Lynch?” 

“They’re fine, Gansey.” 

“Yeah I’m good,” Skov exclaims grabbing his car keys. 

“Fine.” Gansey drives, Ronan in the front and K with Adam in the backseat. “Where?” 

“Fairgrounds,” K screams, and Adam flinches at the sound right in his ear. 

“Chill, K, Jesus.” Ronan slurs and Gansey shoots him a worried look. “Vroom Vroom, Daddy.” 

Kavinsky hollers in laughter, and Ronan giggles. Gansey starts the car and heads to the fairgrounds. Skov’s RX-7 slips quietly next to the passenger side. Ronan rolls down Gansey’s window. 

“Race!” Ronan screams and Gansey frowns. 

“With that piece of crap, are you out of your mind Lynch?” 

“This car isn’t in good enough shape to race,” Adam states, trying to pry Kavinsky’s hand off his crotch. 

“Any car can race,” Kavinsky slurs, slipping his hand under Adam’s jeans. Adam whimpers in pleasure and K laughs, throwing his head back. 

“Don’t be lame, Gansey,” Ronan pleads. Skov revs his engine, laughing. 

“No, Ronan.” 

Ronan throws his hands up in exasperation. Gansey let out a long sigh, that Ronan didn’t care to interpret through the muddled spaces in his mind. Gansey revved his engine and Ronan let out a squeal that could only be interpreted as glee, and Gansey sped off. And Ronan thought, he couldn’t race so he grabbed the stick shift and moved it at all the right times, and Gansey kept going and going. Kavinsky yelled obscenities out the window at the RX-17, and they made it first to the fairgrounds. Ronan got out, physically shaking with energy now, and Skov pulled up a few seconds later. Ronan leaned into the driver’s side window.

“Beat you!,” he exclaimed an inch from Skov’s face and if he leaned in closer their lips would touch and he thought maybe Skov was his best friend out of his original crew. Skov offered a pleasant smile, buzzed out of his mind, inhaling weed from the blunt caught between his index finger and forefinger. Swan leaned over to kiss Skov, and Ronan awkwardly tried to move from the window, slamming his head in the process and Jiang snorted in the backseat. 

“You sure did,” Skov finally responded, shaking Ronan’s hand like it was a fucking official thing, and Ronan actually _giggled again_ in response. He felt really light, like not totally real, and when he turned, Gansey was behind him so he kissed him. 

“We won,” he moaned into Gansey’s mouth, Gansey laughing at the absurdity of their kiss. Ronan blushed and pulled back offering a lopsided smile. 

“It’s really fun on coke, Ronan! Here,” Ronan turned to look at Kavinsky’s skeletal frame leaning over the Camaro's hood, cutting more lines. A lot of lines, maybe too many, Ronan thought, and he looked back at Gansey. “Come here,” Kavinsky hissed and he found himself next to the boy. Skov and Jiang were crowding around but Swan stayed with the other two boys. 

“Let’s all take a hit,” Skov suggested, less relaxed than normal, exchanging a pointed look at Jiang that Ronan remained oblivious to. “There’s plenty.” 

Kavinsky let out a long, hollow laugh, and Ronan clutched onto his wrist more harshly than he meant to. “Two lines, K.” Kavinsky gave him a strange look. 

“I won’t tell you to eat if you don’t try to cut me off, Lynch. It’s _ my _ coke anyway.” Kavinsky fights to get out of his grip, but Ronan tightens his hold. This is a dangerous game to play, but Ronan was a skilled player. Kavinsky relented, snorting two lines and stepping back with a flourish. Ronan, Skov, and Swan split the remaining nine lines. Ronan’s head is spinning, and words are tumbling out of his lips at Skov but he’s unaware of the content. He’s dazed when a fist is slammed into his right cheek, and his hands are wrapping around Swan’s neck without understanding why. 

“Stay away from my boyfriend, Lynch,” Swan spits out and Ronan blinks slowly, processing the statement.

“Huh,” he responds lowering his arms back to his side, Kavinsky throwing a hand around his neck. 

“He was only playing, Swan, chill out. He’s too busy between Gansey’s thighs to even come up for air most nights.” Swan sneers but walks away pulling Skov harshly behind him. “You should watch your mouth, Lynch,” Kavinsky whispers into his ear. Ronan shivers when Kavinsky’s hand splays across the small of his back, and he thinks maybe he shouldn’t be like this with Kavinsky. He forgets why. 

Adam stands in front of him then, and his head is swarming now, warmth spreading into his chest at the sight of the boy. Adam tenderly touches his cheek, asking him something that Ronan can’t understand. The smell of mint and citrus is overwhelming him and he feels Gansey’s arms wrap around him from behind. Oh. That’s why he thinks to himself with relief. Adam opens his mouth, emitting more nonsense words, and Ronan nods anyway. Gansey whispers something into his ear, and Ronan stares blankly at Jiang as if he will telepathically communicate the answer. 

“Ronan?” Gansey’s voice sounds far away, and Ronan is floating up, up, up, and 

“Ronan!” Adam shrill scream echoes and Ronan winces from the noise. He can’t move, and he’s on the ground but doesn’t remember for what. Gansey’s face pops into view, and Ronan narrows his eyes to make the second Gansey disappear. 

“Are you ok,” Gansey asks, “We should take him to a doctor.” 

“No way,” Kavinsky snarls, “Not with all the shit he took. Shake it off, Lynch.” Kavinsky wraps a hand around his bicep, pulling him up. He stands shakily, leaning onto Kavinsky for support. “See he’s fine,” Kavinsky smirks, and Gansey looks pissed off. 

Gansey reaches out, grabbing Ronan and pulling him away. “We’re leaving, now,” Ronan whines about wanting to shoot off fireworks, even as Gansey buckles him into the passenger seat like a kid. “Are you coming too Adam,” Gansey calls out.

But Adam is pressed up against Kavinsky and the two aren’t going any way that drives their bodies apart now. Gansey closes the door, and Skov gets in the back. “Where are you two going?” 

“To make sure he’s okay, Skov.” 

“Right. I guess I’ll come? Swan’s being bitchy anyway.” Skov throws his keys at Kavinsky’s feet, and Ronan winces at his poor decision-making skills. Adam snatches them too quickly for Kavinsky to process and Ronan lets out a relieved sigh. He waves timidly at K, who winks at him and Adam who offers a warm smile. “Look, Ro, sometimes you should just internally think about things, catch my drift, dude?” 

“Sure,” Ronan manages, unsure what the hell Skov is referring to.

“Cool.” Skov leans back and buckles his seatbelt, Gansey finally leaving the fairgrounds. Ronan passes out and wakes up to Gansey yelling and Skov hyperventilating. “What the fuck!”

-

Ronan startles, and opens his eyes, staring into a large bird’s beady eye. The bird is perched precariously on his hips, blood springing to the surface at the grip of the talons. Ronan stares, blinking again, and the bird caws shrilly at him, pecking his shoulder lightly. When he moves, the bird drags a talon across his chest, leaving a trail of blood, and his heart is pumping too fast in his ears to understand Gansey’s words. The window rolls down and the bird cocks its head, curiously. Ronan snaps its neck and shudders when the body slumps onto his chest. He pries open the door and takes the bird out. 

“We have to bury this,” Skov pants out, fear in his eyes. “Where did it come from?” 

“Let’s just get rid of it,” Gansey calmly states, grabbing the top portion, Ronan lifting the bottom portion of the warm body. “It’s dead, right?” 

“Yes.” Skov looks between the two.

“I’m just high, that’s it, it’s the drugs.” Gansey nods to Skov, placating him, but shoots a knowing look at Ronan. 

They half-bury the bird in the woods on the side of the road, hoping it’ll decay or be eaten rather than stumbled upon. Gansey walks over, tracing the claw marks, and lifting Ronan’s shirt to inspect the damage. It’s not deep enough to warrant worry, and Gansey pulls down his shirt again. His chest underneath the shirt is mostly visible now, and he wrapped his arms around himself, feeling smaller than before. Gansey takes off his t-shirt, and hands it to Ronan, taking his shredded one instead. 

“Thank you,” Ronan says weakly, pulling on the new shirt, and feeling better. 

“Anytime,” Gansey’s eyes flicker back to the bird, “Could you illuminate me? All I know is I was driving, and this - creature appeared - in my car, out of nowhere and -” Gansey trails off.

“I didn’t mean to, Gansey.” 

“Huh?” 

“It was an accident,” Ronan insists, “I tried to leave the dream, but I wasn’t paying attention to the bird.” 

“_ What _?”

“Uh, I wasn’t really sure when to tell you …” Ronan trails off, heat creeping into his face.

“Tell me what? A homicidal bird is out to get you?”

“Well, that. But mainly, I can take things from my dreams.”

“Like the ring,” Gansey states, looking at his ring finger now. “The flower.” 

“Yeah,” Ronan blushes, “Are you not freaking out?”

“I don’t tend to freak out, Ronan. So no.” 

“Right. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.” 

“I peed a little, but otherwise I’m unscathed,” Gansey offers a smile, and takes Ronan’s hand, leading them back to Skov. Skov’s passed out in the backseat so Gansey starts the car. 

They pull up to fox way and Maura is at the doorway, gesturing for the two boys to come inside. Skov is snoring, and Ronan pats his leg once before heading up the drive with Gansey. 

“I thought you might come,” Maura states, walking into the house. She sits next to Mr. Gray. Blue gives Ronan a hug, surprisingly, and he wraps his arm gently around her. “You didn’t properly meet Calla and Persephone last time.” Ronan offers a small wave, as Blue sits him down in the chair. Gansey scrapes a chair across the kitchen, to be next to Ronan. 

“Parrish?” Blue scrunches her brows together.

“Fairgrounds,” Gansey replies tensely, so Blue drops it. 

“Ronan!” Kavinsky screams outside, and he jolts. The door flings over, Adam running over to him. “Bro, what happened, Skov called freaking out about some bird. Pussy.” 

Kavinsky stands in front of him, hands on his hips, and Ronan stares at his crotch. Kavinsky leans down. Lifts up the shades, and his eyes appear black in the dim kitchen light. 

“I know I’m a nice view, Ronan, but care to answer me?” He hears Gansey snort. 

“Skov just worked himself up for no reason man. Must be the coke. No birds.” 

“Really,” Kavinsky purrs, and Ronan darts his eyes to the ground, shivering from the emptiness behind Kavinsky’s eyes. “Because Gansey has a fucking huge claw mark on your t-shirt.” 

Fuck. Adam lifts Gansey’s shirt worriedly, noting the non-clawed appearance. He moves to Ronan. “You?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“What’s wrong, Lynch, shy?” 

“Remember what I told you,” Ronan snarls at Kavinsky, but he leans forward closer to his face, smirking. 

“That you want my teeth in a pretty jar?” 

“Don’t be a freak, K.” 

“I’m not the freak here, Ronan. Lying about a fucking bird, seriously?” 

“Look, it’s none of your business.” Ronan tries to pull away and Kavinsky grabs his arms, keeping him there. 

“You want to play games with me, Lynch, but boy do you hate when I bite back.” Kavinsky curls his lip in anger and Gansey reaches out. Kavinsky growls like a fucking dog, and Gansey retreats, gulping. “Now I’m going to ask _one more_ time what happened. I want the truth. Or I’ll bite your face off. Enough of this bullshit.” 

“Shut up, Kavinsky.” Ronan gasps in pain when Kavinsky leans forward harshly, causing their foreheads to slam into one another. 

“Not what I asked, try again. You’re lucky I give second chances.” 

Ronan shudders, glancing at Adam. 

“Don’t look at anyone but me, no one’s saving you, Ronan. Why don’t you just whine to Gansey later about it?” 

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch!” Ronan screams out and Gansey inhales sharply. 

Kavinsky smiles, this really empty smile that almost makes Ronan piss himself, and then he lunges at him, taking a bite out of his cheek. Ronan wails in pain, and Kavinsky’s roughly yanked off, taking away a chunk of skin, blood pooling around his chin. “Get off me!” Kavinsky whines, Mr. Gray keeping him in a headlock.

“Shut up, before I snap your neck, pissant.” 

Kavinsky is silent then, eyes widening in either fear or glee, as Adam puts pressure on his cheek. “Christ, Kavinsky! What is the matter with you?” Adam yells. 

“I told him what was going to happen, why the fuck is everyone mad at _me?_ He’s a liar! And your brother is no better,” Kavinsky spits out venomously. “Ask him about your daddy, Lynch.” 

“What are you talking about?” Ronan replies, taking the bait. 

Mr. Gray shifts to let Kavinsky speak but holds onto his shoulder tightly. K laughs gleefully at Ronan, either unaware or uncaring of Mr. Gray’s presence. “Your brother is not as innocent as you think Ronan. Did you ever stop to wonder why he never opened the closet door for you? Or offer to kiss your boo-boos? Never offered you any food?”

“No,” Ronan lies, lips quivering. “How do you even know any of that?” 

“Who told you that?” Gansey demands, anger causing the words to arrive as daggers.

“An anonymous source, I’ll tell you who if Ronan gives me a kiss.” Kavinsky smirks, and a heavyweight forms in his stomach.

“Noah,” Ronan quietly chokes out. Kavinsky laughs. 

“Be careful what you say around friends, Ronan. They might turn against you, try again one more time.”

“Proko? I never told him that.” 

“Wrong again, third times the charm. Think harder.” 

Skov slinks to the doorway, looking guilty. 

“No,” Ronan says in surprise, “That’s a lie.” 

“I never said anything, you say it.” 

“No!” Ronan screams. “You promised,” he spits out at Skov, who’s now in front of him.

“I-” 

“Get away,” Ronan screams, “Get away from me! What did I ever do to you, Skov?” 

“It was an accident, I never turned on him, you snake.” Skov shoves Kavinsky hard, but he bounces back against Mr. Gray’s chest. 

“See, Ronan? I guess the only one you can really trust is your butt buddy.” 

“Ronan -” 

“Shut up, Skov. How do you accidentally share my fucking trauma, that I told you about in confidence?”

“I was really high earlier and Kavinsky kept pushing, I know I fucked up Ro.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Ronan sneers. 

“What’s the point about Declan?” Adam presses and Ronan looks up shocked. “What’s the secret?”

“Pay up, and I’ll spill the beans.” 

Blue comes over and wraps an arm around Adam’s waist. 

“Lynch?” 

“What?” 

“A secret for a secret.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Take your shirt off and share with your new pals.” 

“No,” Gansey snarls, “Absolutely not.” 

“Aw, that’s a bummer. Okay, dealer’s choice then.” 

“I’m tired of your shit, Kavinsky.” 

“Me too, Ronan. Do you want to know though, or not?” 

Ronan wants to know, and Kavinsky can smell the desperation. “What do you want me to say?” He hates how pathetic his voice sounds and the look Mr. Gray keeps giving him.

“Something true, preferably.” 

“Declan was scared of my dad because he killed our brother.” Everyone stares at Ronan, and Gansey furrows his brow, confusion radiating off him and Adam. 

“Your brother?” 

“I had a little brother. My dad got pissed, shoved him down the stairs, and his neck snapped. He pinned it on my mom, and she got arrested. It was either Declan or me after that.” 

“Now it’s all clicking into place,” Kavinsky says smiling. He wrestles out of Mr. Gray’s relaxed grasp and strides over. “Aright a deal’s a deal, baby. Your brother told your father that it was your fault the dog died. Remember?” 

Ronan scrunches up his nose. “So?” 

“The point, Ronan, is that time and time again Declan would choose your punishment.” 

“He had no idea.” 

“Wrong. It’s all in the CPS file, clear as day. Daddy would ask what Declan thought about your behavior, and Declan would pick the punishment. In return, Declan got out unscathed. He got scared and lied about it in the police statement. Why would _ he _ tell you that Ronan?”

“You’re fucking lying. Get out!” 

“Who killed the dog, Lynch? I wanted to know so bad.” 

“Declan,” Ronan whispers. 

“And what was the punishment, pray tell?” 

“Sleeping outside for a week,” Ronan answers, shame flooding his face. 

“How fitting, I suppose. Why didn’t you tell your father that Declan did it?” 

“Because, he liked Declan, what was the point of saying anything.” 

“I don’t know maybe not sleeping outside in fucking December would have been a start?” 

“You can’t understand.” 

“You have no idea how close we relate to one another, Ronan. What was the bathtub incident when you were 7?” 

“Don’t answer him, Ronan.” Adam pleads. Ronan doesn’t care anymore. 

“Nothing. I almost drowned.” He thinks harder, and he remembers Declan being there for some reason. 

“Your mom claimed Declan dearest held you under. True or false?” 

“I can’t remember.” 

“You didn’t know back then either, according to your file. Hm.” 

“Enough!” Gansey stands up. “How the hell did you gain access to that fucking file?” 

“Tell me about your trauma then,” Ronan screams over Gansey. All he can think about is Matthew’s blonde curls, blood caked in his hair when he found him. How hard he cried over the body, the paramedics having to force him off. “Now.” 

“I told you before, Daddy was a prick, just like yours.” 

“Maybe because you’re a fucking psychopath.” Ronan points out accusingly. 

“I was made, Ronan, I didn’t start out this fucked up. Remember when you were normal all those years ago? Innocent and wide-eyed?” 

“You killed your father.” 

“You should have killed yours, Ronan.” Kavinsky gives him such an empty expression, Ronan almost feels bad. “Your brother is a psychopath too, by the way.” With that, he leaves, slamming the door behind him. 

-

“Ronan -” Adam starts then his name fades off. 

“Don’t.” Ronan stands up and vomits on Gansey’s shoes by accident. “Shit - I - sorry.” Gansey leads him to the bathroom, and Ronan finishes vomiting in the toilet. His cheek hurts. He’s led back to the table, Calla handing him tea. 

“Drink it, it’ll help with the pain.” 

“Eat this, it’ll help your stomach,” Persephone slides over a plate of saltines. “Promise.” 

Ronan nibbles at the crackers, Skov fiddling around nervously. Finally sitting down in an empty chair away from the table. 

“That was so fucked up,” Adam exclaims.

“Why were you playing footsie with him then, Parrish?”

“He wasn’t like that before, Lynch.”

“I know. He was sober.” Ronan realizes that’s what was off about his eyes. 

“Huh. Never thought I would like him better high as a kite.” 

Skov snorts, and Gansey sighs. Blue holds Ronan’s right hand. 

“No offense, Ronan, but you did invite him in just because you thought he was hot.” 

“That was fucking offensive, Skov. And not true.” 

“Right, to replace Proko. Happy with Proko 2.0?” 

“Fuck off, man. Don’t need your shit.” 

“Fine.” Skov leans his head back, closing his eyes. “What was that shit we took? I puked too.”

Ronan forgot about the drugs. “That fucker.” 

“What?” 

“Truth serum, Skov.” 

“SHIT. That’s why I told him?” 

Ronan nods. “Has to be, I didn’t even flinch revealing all of that. Definitely drugged us with malintent regardless of what it was.” 

“Plus the coke man, that was not pure.” 

“Remember how insistent he was that I snort it?” Ronan narrows his eyes.

“Fuck, yeah, that was kind of weird.” 

“Unless it wasn’t. Maybe that mixes badly with the first one.” 

“Why we all got sick would make sense then. Swan isn’t sick, but he didn’t snort cocaine.” 

“Fuck.” Ronan’s head is spinning again. “Why are we so stupid?”

“He used all of us, man. To get to you. You sure the two of you never met? It seems like he has a personal vendetta against you.” 

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” He exclaims suddenly. “No, no, no.” He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Just tell them, dear,” Persephone says gently. 

“I - I - I made him.” Ronan shudders. Gansey raises his eyebrows. “A dream. Kavinsky knew all of that from my head.” 

“What do you mean made him?” Adam presses.

“He dreams,” Maura states, “A Greywaren, one who can retrieve from dreams.”

“Then why did he ask where the bird came from?” 

“He wouldn’t know, the birds are recent. He must have found out that he’s not real, Gansey.” 

“Holy shit,” Adam responds, Skov, mirroring his expression. “That’s what he meant about being made.” 

Ronan nods. “I made him like me. Destroyed him, then brought him to life, then forgot about him. No wonder he’s mad. He’s manipulative enough that he faked being our friend, changed his hair color to fool me.”

“Hair color?”

“He’s blonde.” 

“Oh. That’s kind of odd for him, black looks better.” 

“Focus on the point, Blake!” 

“Right, sorry.” 

“So he’s like a made-up character?” Blue clarifies, cocking her head. 

“Essentially.” 

“I think that wasn’t true about Declan, he seemed nice,” Gansey replies. 

Ronan laughs, “So do I, Gansey.”

“You are nice, dude.” Skov whines. “Your brother is a dick. How come you never told me about the other one?”

“No point bringing up ghosts, Skov.” 

“I guess so,” Skov answers softly. “I’m sorry for telling K, Ro.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Ronan closes his eyes, putting an ice pack to his cheek. “He’s insane.” 

“Who bites someone’s face?” Blue agrees, “The fuck is the matter with him?” 

“He’s not afraid of anything, Blue. He’s always ready to die.” Ronan takes Gansey’s hand. 

“So should we kill him?” Adam asks, Blue inhaling sharply at the suggestion, Gansey arching an eyebrow.

“Can you put him back into a dream?” Blue tries.

“No, he’s as solid as a tree. Can’t just make him disappear, Blue.”

“Wait, did you make Proko?” Skov asks, face scrunching up. “Because he always seemed off. Like he had no family, it was weird.” 

“Skov.” Ronan pleads, only once, just enough to make Skov hesitate in asking his next question. 

“All of us?” 

“No. Not you. Proko and Jiang.” 

“And K.” 

“Yeah.” 

“So what, K, ran away from home?” 

“Basically.”

“If you dreamt up Proko, what was the problem?” Skov narrows his eyes. “Shouldn’t he be perfect?” 

“Nothing I dream up is perfect, it’s all distorted. Like Jiang’s anger issues? Proko’s obsessiveness?” 

“Kavinsky being batshit crazy?” 

Ronan nods. “What really sucks is, we need Proko right now,” Ronan wails.

“No shit dude, he handled everything for us.” 

“Call him.” Skov offers an ugly laugh at the absurdity, but at the steady gaze from Ronan dials Proko. 

“Prok, it’s Skov. Are you still in the hospital or whatever?” After a minute, Skov shoots a pleading look at Ronan. “Look, man, you were right okay, what can I say? K is crazy. He just bit Ronan’s cheek partially off.”

Ronan reaches out for the phone, and when he presses it to his ear, he can feel the familiar pattern of Proko’s breathing. 

-

It’s the next morning by the time they decide how to deal with Kavinsky, and Ronan is left apprehension at the cost. Proko decided that Ronan should bring Kavinsky into the dreamscape because he has to be unmade. Gansey states, for the record, that Proko’s idea is suicidal for both of them. Ronan silently agrees with Gansey, but for the sake of Skov and Adam he puts on a brave front. By the time he downs two melatonin, Gansey is begging him not to do this, but it’s been decided. He’s already been through hell, so what’s another stop along the way. 

He wakes up in the fairgrounds surrounded by dust and blood, with the faint smell of gasoline flooding his nostrils. Kavinsky is sitting on his left, smoking a cigarette, and Ronan is tempted to ask for a drag. 

“Shitty place for a date, don’t you think Lynch?” 

Ronan sits up and inhales, ignoring Kavinsky’s remark and focusing the vultures circling over their heads. It’s slightly morbid that his brain decided to bring vultures along as if he’s going to need them. 

“We both know the way this has to end,” Ronan whispers, closing his eyes. 

Kavinsky sits next to him silently for a few moments, before getting up off the dirt and walking away. Ronan’s eyes finally open, at the sound of Proko’s familiar laughter and confusion is splayed across his face at the sight of the two boys together. Why would two enemies be laughing right now? 

Both boys look at him, and Proko smirks in a sickening way, staring behind him. Kavinsky is still laughing and dragging a finger along his throat. 

“It’s your fault Matthew’s dead,” Declan states dryly. “Isn’t it?” 

Ronan is still processing Proko and Kavinsky teaming up, rather than paying attention to what Declan has said. He wonders what Gansey is doing, and wishes he had listened to him instead of going along with this stupid idea. Then Declan’s hands are placed on his shoulders, and a shiver runs down his spine. The hands are too small, not quite right, enough that Ronan can tell this Declan is a copy. It doesn’t matter though, because there is only one outcome left of this dream, and his heart is slamming against his ribcage. He tries to conjure up something, anything, to save him but the only sound is the eerie groan of the vultures above. The sun glints of Kavinsky’s gold chain and Proko stands there looking rather pleased. 

“This could have ended differently, Ro, if you would have just done what I asked,” Kavinsky declares, and Proko nods along. “I was going to have Proko dream up your daddy, but I figured that since Declan is also a psychopath he would work just as well. Besides he already killed the family pet, so you’re only one step up.” 

“Since when are the two of you buddies,” Ronan cuts in. 

“Since you ruined our lives by blinking us into existence. I figured that if I was going to take you down, I would need someone on the inside.” 

Ronan’s head spins, and he flushes in humiliation as bile forces its way out of his throat onto the dirt below him. Declan makes a groan of disgust, and Kavinsky watches the vultures circle down, landing by the slick substance. Ronan watches as the birds fight for a morsel and realizes this will happen to his body.

“What did you think Lynch, that _ Birds _ would occur in real life?” 

“Just get it over with, K.” 

“Why the rush, I’m having a lot of fun. Aren’t you Prok?” Ronan watches Proko smile again and wishes he could puke again. 

“Just tell me why.” 

“You said it yourself, there’s only one way this can end, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

Ronan nods and waits for Declan to act. Declan places his left hand under his chin, and Ronan laughs. And then his head turns impossibly to the left, neck muscles straining desperately until - 

-

Kavinsky, Proko, and Ronan drop to the ground the instant Ronan’s neck is snapped. Leaving the vultures to clean up the mess.

Gansey, Adam, and Skov have been waiting up in the car for hours to see the results. But instead, they’re horrified to watch the boys’ gaunt bodies be picked apart by an invisible being. Skov screams first, drawing attention to the gruesome scene and Gansey vomits into his lap. Adam turns away and tears slide down his cheeks, Skov faring no better. 

Adam starts to tell Gansey not to bother, even as he watches the boy desperately careen across the field to Ronan’s body. By the time he reaches the boys, it’s evident that all three are gone. Skov listens to the piercing wail leaving Gansey, and he knows that Ronan is dead. Several long moments later, all that remains are bones. Adam helps Skov bury what’s left, while Gansey sits along the edge of the hole in silence. Skov calls Jiang's cell and listens to a voicemail mentioning not to bother calling back, filled with yelling and Ronan's laughter. He disconnects.

"This is all my fault," Gansey whispers. 


	2. Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, I Pray Thee Lord My Soul To Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a sequel no one wanted. Except for @QueerWolfHyper, thanks to my only fan haha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi,, im back again. read the previous tw, most share with the first fic, and im sorry all i can write is angst. 
> 
> Additional TWs: explicit animal cruelty mentions, VERY graphic scenes (blood, gore, ickyness), drug use/smoking (lots of smoking), implied past sexual abuse, underage sex, there's some ED mentions again
> 
> think that's all the additionals. 
> 
> I listened to I mean It by G-Easy, Sleep Paralysis by Gabriel Bruce, and Where is My Mind by the Pixies on a loop while writing this fic, so if you are looking for some background noise, here you be.
> 
> without further ado, voila.

It’s been three months since Skov watched Ronan, Kavinsky, and Proko became eviscerated from the passenger seat of Gansey’s car, with no apparent cause. Each night before he closes his eyes he sees flashes of Ronan, in his BMW during a race, sharing a bed with him after a nightmare, snorting cocaine lines off Kavinsky’s Mitsubishi. Jiang’s laughter, his hands unbuckling Skov’s jeans for the first time, his incessant arguing on the phone with Ashley. Proko’s blunt rolling skills, the pinched face he would make after being alone with Ronan, his anger and flying fists at parties. Kavinsky’s nasally whine twisting laughter into cackling, his ability to live his life fully with no fear, finding out he was used by the boy. But none of these hurt in comparison to the commonality each boy shared: being an extension of his best friend Ronan Lynch. A dream, every damn one of them. The only one he has left is Swan, who is real between his thighs each night. In Ronan’s empty house, silent and eerie without them. Life feels so meaningless, several nights have left him awake debating moving back to California with Swan. What’s the point of hanging onto Henrietta when the party is over? Skov has no idea. 

Gansey does. He wants Skov to help him with some kind of project and has been attempting to corner him for weeks. Skov hangs up on the phone and avoids the boy with care in the hallway, all he can think of was how wrapped up Lynch was with him. And the unwavering fact that he’s dead now because none of them tried hard enough to stop his stupid idea. Adam walks around with a hunch as if he were a zombie next to Gansey, and Skov wonders whether it’s from mourning the loss of Kavinsky or Ronan, or both. He means to talk to Adam about Kavinsky but the days slip through his fingers as if it were the cheap champagne Jiang bought for his sweet sixteen. Until finally one day, Gansey pushes him into a bathroom stall with him, locking the door behind him. Skov tries to back up toward the toilet to give the other boy space, but they’re both forced to share breaths within the confined space. 

“‘Sup, Gansey?”

“‘Sup?’ Skov, I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks.” 

“Look, man, I’m busy,” Skov reaches forward to unlock the stall but Gansey grips his wrist in a vice. “Let me go, now.” 

“Listen to me Skov, I need your help. And neither of us are leaving this shithole until you stand there and listen to everything I have to say.” 

Skov leans against the wall, rolling his eyes high enough that his mother would chide that his face would become stuck that way. Then he forces himself to look into Gansey’s hazel irises, for the first time seeing the utter pain and fucking  _ grief _ that exists in the boy’s eyes. 

“Fine. I’m listening.” 

-

Declan Lynch is a connoisseur, an excellent judge of character, correlating with his steady caseload during his post-graduate pursuit into a prosecutor for young children who ended up like his younger brother: broken and alone. But he’s also a liar, and he’s terrified that at any moment a defense attorney such as Richard Gansey II will become aware of his duality. The guilt eats him alive, especially after Matthew’s death and Ronan’s accident. Skov had called him months ago, said that Ronan had been driving with Kavinsky and Proko along the mountains. That their car had crashed but there was no way to recover the vehicle from the steep ravine. Declan had driven up to the broken guardrail and peered down at the white-coated plastic wrapped around metallic parts littering the base of the cliff. Thought about the pain his brother had endured throughout his short life, and how much he had factored into it with his choices. 

He wished he could stop killing animals as a young boy, but nothing offered him satisfaction quite as much as slicing open a stray cat’s throat feeling the blood spray onto his cheeks. The family dog had been harder, Ronan clinging onto its strong neck constantly in fear of the older boy. Until one night, when dad had tied it up on a post outback, and Ronan had ventured outside to find Declan kicking its ribs long after the last breath had left the corpse. Ronan had cried and begged Declan to stop, but the older boy had laughed while running inside to point a long finger at Ronan for the death of their pathetic pet, daring Niall Lynch to punish him. How  _ sick _ had he felt hearing the crunch of Ronan’s arm, yet how satisfied when their father had forced him outside in mid-December to desperately curl up against the matted fur of the German Shepherd for the fading body warmth. Then a week later, their father had decided Ronan could sleep inside once again because he had learned some kind of lesson which Declan glossed over. Ronan had still curled up against the older boy’s chest that night, asking whether Declan thought frostbite caused rashes and him telling the other boy to stop whining enough for Ronan’s breathing to finally even out. 

When he wakes up, another long-limbed girl is tangled up in his sheets, and he lights a cigarette asking her to leave with a polite finality. Her answer is punctuated by grabbing her discarded clothing and the slamming of his condominium’s door. The phone wails on his nightstand table, which he answers while tucking himself back into a clean pair of briefs. As soon as he presses it against his ear, he regrets taking the call. 

“Declan? It’s Adam Parrish. I was friends with Ronan, we never met before.” 

“What do you want,” Declan cuts to the chase, unwilling to force himself into small talk with a seventeen-year-old at six in the morning. 

“To meet up with you,” Adam states evenly and Declan raises an eyebrow. 

“Try Grindr, I’m not interested.” 

“Cut the bullshit, Lynch. Meet me at Ronan’s old house at 12 P.M. today,” and then the boy ends the call with a finality that Declan cannot bring himself to argue with despite his best efforts.

As his Volvo pulls up against the curb, he sees a thin boy with an acre of freckles across the bridge of his nose and brown cropped hair. The boy has a sharp look hidden beneath his irises, reminding him of Ronan’s icy stare. Declan lights up another cigarette, holding the pack out to the other boy who takes one out with shaking hands. Declan holds the lighter up against the cigarette waiting for the homemade roll to ignite in green flames, a long-ago party trick gleaned from his incarcerated father. Adam watches the fire burn with a chartreuse hue, a sense of wonder befalling his face for several long beats. Until the older boy inhales the end of the cigarette’s short lease on life, grinding the nub into cement beneath his trend-forward dress shoes. Then he sees the familiar face of Blake Skovron behind the wheel of his ridiculously expensive sports car that Ronan gifted him last year as a present. The boy parks the car in the driveway next to Ronan’s long-retired BMW and Declan watches Skov unfold himself from the driver’s seat, the familiar electric blue dye still saturating his now shoulder-length hair pulled up into a top-knot. Swan’s dark charcoal colored irises land on Declan’s, having no choice but to follow Skov down the winding drive to the cracked pavement from the time Niall Lynch had thrown the contents of the entire living room out of their home in a fit of fury. 

“Nice of you to show your face again, D.” 

“Do you still have fifty hair-appointments a month, Skov?” 

“Two,” Skov replies, lighting up an expertly rolled blunt. Passing it toward Swan who accepts, leaving the two other boys to watch his dark cheeks hollow out. Adam puffs out cold air and starts to shiver enough for Declan to hold out his Armani pea-coat. 

“Take it,” Declan rolls his eyes at the boy’s calculated glance until he slips the woven material over his thin shoulders. “Why don’t we go in, anyway? It’s freezing.” 

Like toy soldiers the three boys march into the house in front of him, Skov dropping down onto the couch with Swan rearing to sit on his lap. Adam sits at the end of the couch, Declan choosing the opposing armchair. He ponders why the younger boy wanted to meet while Skov and Swan demonstrate excessive interest between each others’ thighs, escalating into a trip to the lower level guest bedroom for the appearance of modesty. Declan listens to a cacophony of moans loudened by the silent tension between him and Adam for several minutes until he gets up abruptly.

“Come on, Adam,” Declan heads upstairs uncaring whether he follows or not. 

He leads him past Ronan’s closet, past his old bedroom, and finally to Niall’s room which is still locked. Declan delicately works the lock waiting for the assuring click which follows after his fingers regain their composure. With a soft click, the doorknob turns, Declan creaking the door open slowly as if at any moment his father will amble out of the office with his hands wrapped around Ronan’s neck. For the thousandth time, he wonders what the hell was wrong with him to be able to watch his brothers be swatted around more than a housefly. Dust covers each surface of the room, and ink is splattered across the desk from a fight that occurred years ago. Declan and Ronan had stood in front of the desk, report cards alongside one another, the loser obvious. Their father had roared, knocking over the expensive bottle of ink for his fountain pen all over the grades obscuring the truth. And poor Ronan had been blamed for  _ that _ too. Declan didn’t see him resurface again for several days, but by then his brother reeked of the ever-present scent of vomit and urine. It was amazing how many of their teachers had remained clueless or ignorant enough for so many years. 

“Declan. I didn’t ask you to come here for no reason. I need to talk to you, about Ronan.” 

Declan flinches, turning again to Adam and now the boy peers at him without reservation. “What do you know?”

“Everything.” A pin could drop in the wave of silence that crashes over the room. 

-

“Really, Richard, the crux of the matter is that this obsession has reached my peak and it’s time you come to one of my campaign parties, dear. You’ll feel so much better if you mingle, rather than sitting around that empty apartment.”

Gansey has heard it for months from his mother, not to mention Helen’s ridiculous daily text allotment asking Gansey what he’s doing every hour. He’s not doing much of anything, except working on a model of Henrietta that has extended into Noah’s old room. Noah left shortly after Ronan’s death, telling Gansey there was too much shit going on, and his family was moving to Spain for a few months. Gansey could hardly blame him, and to be honest, he was happy to see Noah go. 

“Richard? Did you hear me?” 

“Mom, I understand, but like I said I’m tied up here,” the refrigerator hums in the eerie silence, and for the thousandth time his fingers begin to dial Ronan’s number. But there is no Ronan anymore. “I have to go, I’ll call later.” He hangs up, cutting off his mother, a capital offense that no longer has a befitting punishment. He can’t be alone anymore unless he wants to spiral. 

The drive to Ronan’s house is quiet, and an unfamiliar car rests by the curb, though Gansey has a feeling he should recognize it. Declan Lynch barrels out the front door, wearing a Burberry trench coat and a rumpled suit. There are several hickeys placed on his neck, and a smaller one peeking out behind the collar of his dress shirt. The older boy lights a cigarette, inhaling a drag harshly, hollowing out his cheeks. Eventually, his eyes rest on Gansey’s stare, and he extends his left arm to offer Gansey a drag. He refuses, and Declan shrugs taking another inhalation of smoke. The lit ash burns green and even the smoke is a pale shade of green Gansey’s seen in passing.

“What’s up, Gansey? I remember you.” 

“Yeah. The boyfriend.” 

Declan taps the cigarette, ashes falling and he is reminded of Ronan smoking in the parking lot back in August before he punched him. The two look remarkably alike, and he sees all of the facial features he adored of Ronan. Declan’s straight nose and indigo hue of his irises throws him off but otherwise, it’s as if looking into a photo. Ronan’s nose probably had been that straight before all of the fights. 

“Ex-boyfriend, now, I suppose.” 

“I suppose,” Gansey replies afraid his throat will close up, “How are you?” 

“You tell me, Richard.” The use of his first name surprises him, only his mother calls him Richard. 

“Listen, Declan, I need to ask you something.” 

“You and Adam both, huh? Your pal already gave me the third degree, ask him for the notes. I hardly have time to waste here with you boys, in case you aren’t aware I’m busy.”

Declan doesn’t seem in a rush, despite his previous statement, fussing with a loose thread on the collar of the coat. 

“What jail is your father in?”

“Why?” 

“Is it the DC Detention Center?” 

“Tell me who wants to know first.”

“Declan my patience is wearing thin, I want you to just tell me the fucking truth okay?” 

Gansey doesn’t mean to snap at Declan, but he’s so angry lately, it’s becoming harder to control. 

“I’m driving,” Declan responds taking one last drag of the cigarette before tossing the butt to the ground. Gansey slams the passenger door of the Volvo shut, Declan depositing his coat onto Gansey’s lap. “It’ll be a few hours, so get comfortable.” Gansey wraps the coat around his shoulders, Declan humming noncommittally along to a song on the radio before changing the station four times. The coat smells like nicotine and cologne. 

Right before they pull away, Adam comes out of the house, Gansey asking Declan to unlock the doors. The older boy rolls his eyes but waits for Adam to clamor into the backseat. “Where are we going?” 

“Jail,” Gansey replies tersely, Declan finally steering the Volvo away from the sidewalk, and tearing down the road, reminding him of Ronan. Adam has a rather long trail of fresh hickeys littering the left side of his neck, which he hasn’t had on his frail body since his little romance with Joseph Kavinsky several months ago. Gansey avoids the connection in his mind regarding why both would have hickeys and come out of the house together. Instead, he shoots a text to Skov, informing the boy that he is leaving with Adam and Declan to interview Ronan’s father for any help with his desperate attempts to revive Ronan.

_ Good luck, _ the boy sends instantly, _ i’ll be getting high  _

_ Do what i told u, now _ , Gansey replies, locking the screen. 

_ you know u can’t bring him back, g, he’s gone _

Gansey promptly tosses the cell phone through the window of the moving car, Declan glancing over. The two other boys say nothing, instead pulling into a Wawa to pile up on coffee and hoagies while Declan fills the tank of his car. He refuses to believe the truth everyone has gently offered him for weeks: Ronan is never coming back. 

-

Ronan has been cold for long enough, that no amount of warmth can be conjured up to satisfy his frigid corpse. He’s not quite alive, not quite dead - stuck in a dreamscape with Kavisnky and Proko lurking around every corner, breathing down his neck at night. Being trapped in an eternal limbo with his sworn enemies is worse than burning to death in hell. 

“I’m so fucking  _ bored _ ,” Kavinsky whines, wrapping his arm around Ronan’s shoulders. “Wanna have sex?” 

“No, you pig, I don’t.” Ronan shakes the other boy’s arm off him. 

“Oh come on, in case you haven’t noticed Gansey isn’t around much here.” 

Gansey isn’t around at all, which makes that a rather moot point. Ronan sighs and lights another cigarette, which Kavinsky assumes they’re sharing, ripping it out of his hands to inhale the nicotine. “Give it back, stupid.”

Kavinsky ignores this exclaim, leaning in close to Ronan’s parted lips and blowing smoke into his mouth to complete its journey to his corrupted lungs. He watches as the boy drops the cigarette onto the stray weeds, and graze his lips against Ronan’s neck lightly. Ronan takes off his shirt for the thousandth time, allowing Kavinsky to gently lower him to the ground, and pull down his pants. 

This is what they do in limbo: smoke and fuck. This is what’s new in limbo: Ronan’s body is a fresh canvas, no more markings or sick words littering his torso. This is what else happens in limbo: Declan’s copy still rummages around the sparse woods, looking for something Ronan can’t or won’t offer. Proko sneers and walks in circles all day claiming he’s being productive, looking for an escape route. Kavinsky snorts, telling the boy what a waste of time his efforts are. The three boys fight a lot, fuck even more, and at this point must have charcoal shaded lungs. 

All they can do is wait. Wait for something, or someone to come fetch their sorry asses. 

-

Adam has been dreaming of Ronan, Kavinsky, and Proko nightly. The three boys stumble around woods, leaning into one another in a manner that would displease Gansey greatly. Adam tries to talk to Ronan, but every time he gets near the boy, he offers a small smile to indicate Adam’s time is up before he bolts upright in his bed. Three months have gone by, and he still has been unable to reach either of the boys, wondering if they can hear him the way he can hear the moans and screams echo through the trees in each dream. Ronan doesn’t have any more scars, and seemingly has no problem letting Kavinsky ravish his body to appease his animalistic lust. He is afraid to tell Gansey about these vivid dreams, but he knows he should because Gansey is on a suicidal mission to bring the boy back. He probes at the bruises on his neck from Declan’s teeth this afternoon, thinking of how stupid it was to sleep with a suspect in Gansey’s investigation which he had been instantly suckered into. However, the other boy hasn’t asked, even when the two were at the urinals surrounded by silence in Wawa. Declan’s in his dreams at night lately too, but those dreams leave him flushed and half-hard, likely having nothing to do with Ronan.

Around six P.M. Declan arrives at the county jail, almost ramming into the chain-link fence blocking the entrance. The guard at the gate post inquires who they are, and Declan draws out a long story about how they are Jeffrey Dalmer’s distant cousins here for a visit. The guard doesn’t even laugh at the joke, electing to ignore him and ask once again who they are here to see. Declan clearing his throat, to announce that the three are here to see Niall Lynch, the guard raising a left eyebrow. He doesn’t push on, opening the arm of the gate for the Volvo to slither in. Adam thinks about this afternoon when Declan slammed his body against a wall, his nicotine-basted tongue probing into previously undiscovered crevices of his mouth. 

“What is the point of coming here, anyway? Do you actually believe my father will tell you anything?” 

Adam waits for Gansey to answer, fantasizing about Declan’s thin fingers wrapping around his neck. Declan parks the car in a questionable area and the three boys exit stage left, glancing around the parking lot for any escaped convicts. What an odd collection the three form: Declan impeccable after smoothing the wrinkles in his suit and trench coat, Adam in Declan’s undoubtedly expensive jacket and worn-out, oil splattered jeans, Gansey in khakis and a thick wool sweater. They stumble inside quickly reaching the front desk where a blonde-woman grills them relentlessly, asking the boys to fill out a three-page form. Declan produces an ID by the name of Dean Allen, which Adam assumes is a fake name, with an address in Boston. The woman asks who Gansey and Adam are in relation to Mr. Allen, to which Declan murmurs enough of a response for her to wave the three through with exasperation. 

Niall Lynch is handsomely unremarkable in comparison to his sons, with hair down to his shoulders being the only deviance from Declan’s fine features. Upon glancing at Declan’s face, his mouth forms an ‘o’, following up with a satisfied smile. Declan offers him a well-rehearsed sneer, which Adam sees through as a discernible sense of relief to be reunited with his father. 

“How is Ronan,  _ Dean _ ?” 

“Dead,” Declan retorts, “Some car accident. I wouldn’t know.” 

Niall Lynch’s face contorts into a fit of rage, then smoothing over instantly, a cold grin spreading across his narrow face. “Did he suffer?” 

Adam feels the increasing urge to vomit hearing the vile manner in which the Lynch family speaks, unwilling to hear the two without company.

“Undoubtedly, probably picked apart by some wild animals.” 

Adam shrugs uncomfortably at this accidental honesty provided by Declan and watches Niall tilt his head back to expel laughter. 

“I can’t believe that shithead died without me, tell me, was he still as pliant in bed?” 

Declan stills, Adam’s eyes tracking the boy’s movement. He opens his mouth -

Gansey slams his open palms against the metal table, fury clouding his normally impeccable features. “Don’t talk about him, you  _ sick _ freak!”

Several prisoners and visitors stare after the outburst, mothers clutching their toddlers to their sides as if in a room full of convicts, Gansey is the most terrifying person. At this point, Adam is starting to realize that Gansey is closer to insanity than he has feared since Ronan’s departure. Declan shifts further to his left, away from Gansey, and Adam shifts closer out of what can best be described as a foolish display of loyalty. Adam’s also more interested in why Niall would ask Declan  _ that _ , of all things. What else had the boy done to Ronan?

Declan clears his throat, “Niall, that’s not the reason we are meeting today. It’s rather, shall I say, a business proposition.” 

Niall leans closer to Declan’s face, “I’m listening.”

-

Skov is in a remarkably good mood after a third-round with Swan, the weed slowing his racing thoughts in a calming manner. He dreamt of Ronan again between their first two rounds, Ronan finding out he forged his own enemy, a twisted convoluted form of self-hatred. Wonders, why he didn’t try harder to convince him that running back to Proko, was a mistake. The nagging thought of a set-up had gnawed at his fried brain, slept off by the next morning after losing his high. Regardless, even he will admit that Gansey is the most to blame here, after all, he was the only guy Lynch would listen to. Gansey should have tried harder to stop Ronan, because if he had, Skov wouldn’t be lying here attaining to reach a better high than Kavinsky’s had offered. Too bad Kavinsky isn’t around, because he could use harder shit, but the dealers around Henrietta had blacklisted him due to his hand in swindling loyal customers with cheaper prices, and purer dream substances. 

“Babe, I have to go,” Skov states nonchalantly, lightly shifting Swan’s lulling head onto the pillow and kissing his forehead before dressing. Swan’s out, and high out of his mind, hardly noticing Skov’s departure from the bed. He almost yells out for Jiang, then remembers he’s in a coma back in New Jersey with his family weeping at the bedside. His mother had whispered about pulling the plug soon, which was unbearable for Skov. Fuck if he will lose Jiang too, even if he is a brain-dead-vegetable. Gansey had gathered it to be an effect when a dreamer dies, their dreams die too or become sleeping beauty. How fucking morbid, thank God he is real. Jiang would have helped him, but he guesses he’s alone. Well, not  _ completely _ alone.

He didn’t tell Gansey, but lately, he’s been hallucinating Lynch and talking to him. He’s certifiable, and he knows it. 

“You’re going to do this for Gansey, man, look what happened to me.” 

Skov closes his eyes, ignoring Ronan’s gruesome neck evidently snapped before he died until Ronan’s neck straightens out in a familiar manner. 

“If only it were that easy, huh, Skov?” 

“Yes, Ronan, if only,” Skov sighs, fumbling around for his missing car fob, which Ronan offers up conveniently jingling keys together. 

“Why do you still live here, Skov? You know Declan owns this place, right? And he’ll probably kick you and Swan out in a heartbeat.” 

“He won’t,” Skov assures Lynch, opening the front door and tossing Ronan’s winter coat around his shoulders. The familiar scent of vanilla and strawberries overwhelms his nostrils and his eyes aren’t only red-rimmed from the weed now. “Declan needs me, whether he knows it or not.” 

Ronan rolls his eyes, slipping into the passenger seat. “So where are we going?” 

Skov snorts, “New Jersey. To find the Kavinsky family. Did you even make him a father?”

“Of course I did, Skov. What kind of mother would I be,” Ronan offers broken laughter at his own joke. Skov lights another blunt.

“Don’t fucking leave me, okay?”

“I have to, I’m sorry.” He can already see Ronan starting to fade as he always does near the end of his hallucinations. 

“Ronan, tell me one more thing before you go.”

“What?” Ronan’s voice is weaker.

“Are you really still out there?”

“Come find me.” 

The false pretense of hope crushes Skov more than seeing his friend again. Not as an asshole, not as a drug dealer, not even as the life of the party when drunk. Sees him as the broken shell that would curl up against Skov’s chest and sob that Declan had tortured him in another dream. He didn’t know back then how terrible that was for the boy. The drive to New Jersey is uneventful but arduous because of the distance, and he struggles to keep his eyes open by the time he reaches Maryland. Ronan flitters into view several times during the drive, flapping his mouth urgently unable to produce a sound to reach Skov’s desperate ears. Until finally, as he reaches the border of New Jersey, Ronan appears solidly once again, gasping in the air with heaving sighs. 

“Skov, I have to tell you something.” 

Skov pulls over to the emergency shoulder on the highway, cutting over three lanes, a pickup truck driver passing by blaring his horn and gesturing obscenely. “What?”

“Declan is the key.” 

“Yeah, I know, that’s what Gansey said,” Skov rolling his eyes, “You really are just my imagination, aren’t you?” 

Ronan snorts. “What the hell would Gansey know?”

“Why do you hate him?” 

“Things appear differently when you’re dead, and hopefully you’ll never know,” Ronan exhales shakily, “I don’t hate him, Skov.” 

“He’s the key to what?” 

“My salvation, what do you think moron?”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Meet me tonight, at the fairgrounds where you buried us and I’ll show you.” Ronan blinks out of vision like a light bulb submerged in the darkest corner of Skov’s mind.

Skov shakes his head, inhaling more weed and pulling out in front of a Jetta at 90 mph, the black car scraping his bumper before cutting into the left lane. Skov ignores him, reaching down for the ashtray that had been knocked over during the abrupt change of speed. A tractor-trailer blares a horn at him, causing him to glance up as a black Audi careens into the side of his RX-17. The two cars fishtail both slamming into the guardrail. He realizes how high he is, and how  _ not here _ he should be by the time the police arrive. Fuck. An older man exits his car, clearly displeased at the level of damage, but Skov’s seen worse results at the fairground. He exits the car as well, flicking the blunt over the bridge to the river below. 

“You fucking moron! What the hell where you doing going 90 mph while smoking?” 

“Who the hell said I was smoking, asshole?”

“Oh please, you reek of weed, and I’d hardly classify you as a good driver.” The older man reminds him of Declan, with sharp features and aquamarine eyes. “Your car looks salvageable, ironically.” 

The passenger is smashed like an accordion, but otherwise, he agrees the car fared well. Only the best from Ronan Lynch, featherweight airbags had deployed to stop his neck from snapping. “It was a gift from a friend. Anyway, I suppose we should get going before the cops show up, right?” 

“You owe me a ride,” the older man states, grabbing a briefcase from the trunk, and opening the back door to slide into the backseat. 

Skov shrugs and gets in, the car roaring back to life at the turn of the ignition, airbags sinking back inside rapidly and the passenger side re-forming the proper structure. An uncrashable car, that’s why Ronan had venomously insisted Skov only drive his car every race. Cheater. “So,” he asks while lighting up a cigarette, “Where to man?” 

“Jersey. It’s Colin Greenmantle. You are?” 

“Skov,” He inhales a drag, “Hope Atlantic City works for you. I’m meeting someone.” 

“Fascinating,” he replies in a bored manner while Skov pulls off the shoulder once again, and toward the shore. He types in the address now that he’s closer, and the house is only another hour away. When they pull up, Skov knocks harshly on the door waiting for someone to open it. Greenmantle stays by the curb, whining about having to hail an Uber.

A man who strikingly looks like Kavinsky, for not being his real dad, roughly maneuvers the door open in front of his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Mr. Kavinsky?” 

“I’m not interested in buying your shit, so turn around and get back in the car, cretin.” 

“Are you Joseph’s dad?” 

“Who the hell are you? If you’re looking for him, he’s dead. Get lost,” he slams the door in the boy’s face. Greenmantle steps up to the stoop next to Skov.

“Was that your best shot, Skov? You have to try harder than that.” Greenmantle clears his throat, beating the door the way cops had before busting their party freshman year. “NJSP open up!” 

The door creaks open once again, the man infuriated. “Really, you two are the police? Give me a break. What do you want,” he snarls, hand curling around a baseball bat propped by the side of the door. 

“Let us in, or I’ll arrest you,” Greenmantle replies calmly. “For assaulting an officer.” 

“I should call the cops and have you arrested for impersonating an officer.” 

Greenmantle calmly removes a gold studded police badge from his jacket, clearing his throat. 

“Warrant?” 

“Are you sure you want me to obtain one,” he asks, eyes trailing the heroin needle marks littering the man’s forearms. “Don’t you at least want to try to pretend you’re not using?”

The man sighs, widening the door enough for both of them to enter, plopping down on a couch and gesturing to a single armchair across. Greenmantle stands, and Skov does as well for the sake of appearances. Greenmantle gestures toward the man, Skov suddenly remembering the actual reason he drove six hours. Right, he clears his throat, trying to rack his brain for the script Gansey had given him in preparation for this task. Of course, his mind remains a blank causing both men to stare at him in agitation. 

“So you’re Kavinsky’s dad, right?” Skov tries again, and the other man groans in exasperation. 

“You fucking already asked me pissant, who are you, that dull boyfriend of his?” 

“I’m his friend,” Skov settles on after a long pause, “And I need to search his room.” 

“His room? It’s upstairs, the second door on the left, but he hasn’t touched it in a long time,” the man gets up, “You can see yourselves out then.” 

Skov struggles to form a coherent thought under the fog obscuring his next task defined by Gansey. “How long had you known Kavinsky?”

Greenmantle turns to him now, a puzzled look on his face, but the man stiffens at the doorway. Skov stands there, hands stuffed in his pockets and a lazy grin eating his face for getting under the man’s skin. 

“His whole life, you moron. He was my son.” 

“Try again, he was older when he was made,” Skov realizes how bizarre this sounds for the bystander who is still loitering in the living room, “I know.”

“What the hell are you even  _ talking _ about,” Mr. Kavinsky snarls, “Search his room, and get the fuck out of my house.” 

Skov bolts for the stairs, the older man following him up, and pushing open the door to his room. The room is spotless, not at all what he had expected from a teenage coke addict, but it will make his job easier nonetheless. He tosses the dressers, digs into the closet, yanks up the floorboards. The floorboards yield hard drugs bearing Kavinsky’s smiley-label, and he shoves them all deep into his pockets for later. Thank God. But nothing Gansey told him to look for is here, and he still has found no connection to Ronan in this room. Then Greenmantle offers a Nike duffle bag, Skov turning out his pockets and collecting the rest of the substances from the room. He shoves five photo albums he found for Gansey to peruse, tossing a pair of K’s shades and the new air max kicks into the bag for himself. 

“So, what exactly are you here for?” 

“Looking for something, but I couldn’t find it,” Skov shrugs, “Oh well.” 

“Under the mattress?” 

Skov and Greenmantle lift it up, sliding it to the floor, and find hundreds of envelopes. Some of them from Ronan, while others were addressed to him with a return to sender stamp obscuring the Virginian address. There are some dated from the past five months, meaning Ronan lied. He  _ was _ talking to the boy. The two exchange curious glances, stuffing these into the duffle bag for Gansey as well he supposes. 

_ I found something good _ , Skov texts Gansey,  _ how’s it going for you? _

-

Declan Lynch is reeling from his first visit with his father since the court hearing four years ago, but he manages to keep it together if only for the two imbeciles with him. As soon as they arrive back to his car, he lights up another cigarette before gunning the car out of the open gate. He fails to see what the point of this little excursion was, and has grown tired of chauffeuring two emotionally unstable teenagers around Virginia. He pulls up to his own condominium several hours later, cutting the ignition, and grabbing his coat from the back taking care to slip it over his shoulders. Just like Ronan, he always hated the cold. Maybe Ronan is cold now, wherever he is. 

“Uh, where are we,” Adam squeaks out, Declan watching the boy’s mouth without abandon. 

“My condo, we’re staying here tonight because I’m not driving to Henrietta and back this late,” Declan replies snarkily, wrenching open the door and following the cobbled pathway to the chestnut door. 

When he opens the door, the stench of cigarette smoke and sex fills his nostrils, nose crinkling in distaste. The place used to smell like cinnamon, but once Ronan died, his two nastiest habits dictated each move for months resulting in this foul introduction for Gansey and Adam. Sighing, Gansey tosses his coat on the couch, Adam hands Declan his coat back which he hangs on a neon-green coat rack shaped like a lobster that Ronan had delivered to him. Why he had deemed an ugly crustacean a befitting addition to his condo, the older boy will likely never understand, and now he’s stuck with it forever because it’s the only Ronan-thing he possesses. 

Gansey clears his throat, turning toward Declan. “May I please use a phone?” 

He forgot the younger boy had recklessly tossed his cell out of a window this afternoon, a Ronan-like behavior. Nodding, he holds out his phone to the other boy. Gansey leaves the room, clearly on the phone with someone he thinks is stupid, based on the rudimentary manner he forces his vocabulary to endure. Adam glances up at him through pretty lashes, so Declan crooks his finger toward the bedroom, the younger boy salivating after him. 

Adam pushes his leg between Declan’s thighs once the two slam the door shut behind them. Declan groans in pleasure at the sensation, a hiss leaving Adam’s mouth as he pins both arms against the wall. He works the clothing off of Adam with his hands or teeth, whichever proves fastest until the boy is naked and shivering. The heating system broke weeks ago, but he was too lazy to call the landlord for service, choosing to pile several blankets on the bed. Adam mewls beneath him until he transfers their bodies to the mattress, Adam crawling under the covers. Now the two boys lie there facing one another, Declan above Adam, hankering for another smoke. That will have to wait, he reaches down between the boy’s legs, lightly stroking the erection. Adam’s face contorts from his ever-present nervous expression to pleasure, and a soft moan vibrates in his eardrum. He works the boy over with small bites placed along his collar bone, louder groans filling the room. Declan slides down to the boy’s groin, mouth delivering hot puffs of breath onto Adam teasingly before taking him in fully. Adam spasms beneath him, a guttural wail leaving his mouth while Declan slobbers over his dick. This boy is too  _ easy _ . 

He decides there’s been enough foreplay, pulling his head away and forming a trail of saliva up the long journey of Adam’s chest as he delivers small kisses to his ribcage. Adam’s hands wrap around Declan’s back, nails scraping across his shoulder blades while the boy presses two fingers against him. He curls them inside, stretching the boy out, but not for long enough to make it comfortable. Adam purrs, lips pressed against his right ear, and nibbles on the lobe. It drives him insane with lust, finally ramming inside of Adam with no warning to the boy. He screams. Declan bites his shoulder roughly. Adam’s eyes roll up too far, only the sclera appears, and it makes him so fucking beautiful. Like an angel. Declan is the demon sent to clip his wings. 

-

Gansey can’t decide between slamming his head into the other side of Declan’s door or asking Skov to come to pick him up. Then Declan’s phone rings, and impossibly, the contact name reads Ronan. Gansey’s heartbeat skyrockets, his hands shaking as he unlocks the screen, almost dropping the iPhone on the wooden floor. There’s no sound on the other end for quite some time, and then two deep inhales. And then.

“Declan,” Ronan’s voice rasps, “Is it really you?”

“It’s Gansey, Ronan oh my -”

“What the hell are you doing,” Kavinsky’s nasal whine inquires in the background, “Where did you get a phone, Ro?” 

“I - uh - I -”

There’s a slight ruffling sound and Gansey knows Kavinsky has the phone pressed to his ear. “Who is this?” 

“Gansey.” 

“Oh, Gansey, sorry I fucked your girlfriend a few times because I was horny, hope you don’t mind. He wasn’t even good, so you can have him when we get back.” 

“Excuse me,” Gansey interjects, ignoring the comments, “What the hell is going on? Where are you two?”

“Narnia, Dick. Ronan wants you to come to find his priss ass, been talking to your little pals, Adam and Skov.”

Gansey’s mind wheels at this, what is Kavinsky talking about? Neither boy had mentioned any evidence of such interactions to him. Then Ronan must take the phone back because he hears a muffled argument and then the familiar breathing of his boyfriend. Dead boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.  _ Something _ .

“God, Gansey, I never thought I would hear your voice again,” Ronan’s voice quivers, “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too, Ronan, every second. Tell me where you are.”

“I don’t know where. In a dreamscape. I can’t figure out how to leave, maybe I can’t Gansey. I died, I don’t know if you were around.”

“I saw you, Ronan. We all did, Adam, Skov and I.” 

“I’m sorry, I should have fucking listened to you. I ruined everything, oh God -” 

“It’s okay, Ronan. I’m going to get you out, I promise.” 

“What should I do while I wait?” 

“Dream me the world,” Gansey replies, and the line disconnects abruptly as Ronan attempts to say I love you.

Declan comes out, drenched in sweat and wrapped in a towel. “Were you just talking to my brother?”

Gansey flushes, staring at the large hickeys covering his chest in various places. “No,” he doesn’t trust the boy, “I had a bad dream is all.” He erases the call from the log. “Here’s your phone, thank you.” 

“Uh-huh,” Declan states in disbelief, “Well I’m heading to bed, there’s a couch if that’s cool with you.” 

Adam gets to share the bed with Declan for putting out, Gansey supposes. He can’t find the appeal to sleep with Declan, although he still likes the boy, innocent until proven guilty. However, he isn’t stupid and knows that there’s always an ulterior motive with a Lynch.

“Can I have a blanket, it’s cold in here.” 

Declan takes him in from head to toe. “Fuck it, come in here, there’s room.”

There’s a king-size bed pushed up against the wall, and Adam’s head is buried into the pillow, a light snore emitting from the boy, mouth agape. He drops his clothes, and crawls into bed next to Adam, wrapping his arms around the boy and pulling him close. Away from Declan. Declan doesn’t say anything at first, chooses to focus on lighting another cigarette. 

“What’s wrong, don’t want my hands on him?”

“No,” Gansey curtly states, “I don’t.” Adam turns against him, head laid against his chest and this is all at once familiar. He had spent plenty of Sundays napping with Adam at Monmouth, before Ronan.

Declan chuckled dryly, “Well, then I’d say you’re a bit late.” 

“Fuck off,” Gansey replies, closing his eyes. 

“You’d like it too much,” Declan snaps, and his cheeks flush. 

-

Joseph Kavinsky presses his fingers into Ronan’s hips, but the only name on his mind is Richard Gansey. Nonetheless, the face he’s offered above him has hollowed cheeks, framed by long dark hair, with a straight nose. Not at all like Gansey. At least Proko reminds him of Adam, although it makes sex awkward. The other boy bites down on his neck, and Ronan groans. Declan stands above the two, arms folded with a judgemental gaze upon his face. Ronan feels uncomfortable being exposed around Declan Jr., but he can’t exactly move with Kavinsky pressing down on his entire body repeatedly. It reminds him of his father, and he pushes the boy’s body away, turning on his side to vomit. Some of his curls are long enough that his bile sticks to them, and he shivers, laying his body back down against the dirt. 

“Boner killer,” Kavinsky snarls getting up and pushing Declan, “What the hell do you want, creep?” Declan wanders off. The moon glints off his gray eyes, and he leans down, offering Ronan a hand. Ronan tentatively takes his hand, standing up slowly and leaning against Kavinsky as if he were drunk. “You okay, Lynch?” 

“No,” He buries face into Kavinsky’s shirt as if he’ll shelter him from this nightmare of existence if Ronan stands still for long enough. “I miss them.” 

“Me too,” Kavinsky says, stroking Ronan’s hair repeatedly. “I miss Parrish.”

“Skov,” Ronan muffles, “I miss Skov so fucking much.” 

“I know,” the other boy rubs his back gently, and for the first time since dying, he cries. Really cries, with hiccups and gasps. He holds Ronan even tighter when he sobs. “Come with me, Ronan, I want to show you something.” 

Ronan looks up at the boy with wet eyes and holds his hand to steady himself, allowing him to lead him into the trees. They walk for a while, and Kavinsky stops at an oak tree, squeezing Ronan’s hand lightly so the boy follows his line of vision. Inscribed in the bark is ‘Joseph + Ronan 4 ever’ in his own handwriting. He closes his eyes, squeezing Kavinsky’s hand back. He wrote it in fourth grade, on the tree outside his home with Declan’s swiss army knife. He guesses back then he meant it, but now he wonders if he ever believed in Kavinsky, or just wanted someone else to be as miserable as him. Why the carving has resurfaced years after it was cut down from his backyard, he has no clue. 

It’s close enough to nighttime, so he kisses Kavinsky on the cheek and tells the other boy that he needs to take a walk. Primarily, his goal is trying to locate where the fairgrounds would be in relation to this dreamscape, in order to meet up with Skov. Secondly, he keeps an eye out for Adam in case he appears. Adam clearly wants to speak with him, but the only person he could reach before was Skov. After the phone call, tonight changes things - he can feel it. There the pale boy is, hiding behind an evergreen tree, Ronan rounding the bend and yelling boo. He watches Adam jump, eyeing the hickeys adorning his neck,  _ nice _ . 

“Long time, no see, what’s up Parrish?” 

Adam balks initially until Ronan wraps his arms around the boy, Adam burying his face onto Ronan’s shoulder. “I miss you,” he muffles into Ronan’s shirt. Ronan blushes, holding Adam tightly against his chest. “Are you real?” 

“Nah, I’m just a pipedream, Parrish,” Adam laughs, “Who are those from,” he asks while flicking one of the marks.

Adam’s face reddens, and he watches the other boy pick dead skin off his hand, waiting for him to say anything. 

“Who,” Ronan asks again, jealousy overwhelming him, “Gansey?” 

“No fucking way, man, he’s loyal,” Adam’s tone implies he knows Ronan hasn’t been. Fuck him, Ronan’s been in no man’s land for three months, he doesn’t understand shit. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Come on man, is it someone I know,” Ronan sing-songs, Adam glancing around and freezing at the sight of Declan Jr. “He’s harmless,” Ronan states as if the creature hadn’t snapped his neck three months ago.

Declan Jr. reaches out to Adam, and when Ronan sees his hands, his face drains of color. It’s Declan. Real Declan. What the actual fuck? 

“Adam, you know what they say about spending too much time in dreams that aren’t yours,” Declan chides him while tracing his jaw lightly with a finger, “They’ll consume you.” Declan removes his hand from Adam’s face turning to see Ronan, who’s backed away. 

“Oh come on, where’s my hug little bro, it took me forever to find you. I’ve been watching you for weeks, and I have to say, I’m rather unimpressed with your choice in men,” Adam flickers out of the dream, mouth open to scream. “He needed to disappear for a while, don’t you think?”

“Where is he,” Ronan cries out and Declan smirks. 

“Sleeping with your boyfriend currently, in my bed.” 

Ronan’s head spins. “What?” 

“I’m going to fuck all of your friends, Ronan. I started with Parrish, and next, I’ll have Gansey in the palm of my hand. Although, he’s still  _ awfully _ sad to see you go. I suspect Skov will be no trouble.” 

Ronan flinches, while Declan offers a wide grin to the boy. “Leave my friends alone, Declan, or I swear I’ll -” 

“You’ll what, Ronan? Cry about it to the scattered trees?” A storm is brewing above the two boys, the wind kicking up strong enough to cause him to stumble into Declan. Declan wraps his hands around both of Ronan’s biceps and several ravens caw overhead in a stuttered screech. “You’re not even real anymore.” 

“Get out of my head,” Ronan breaks free of Declan’s grasp, “Now.” 

“You stupid -” Decan flickers out of the dream abruptly, following Adam’s footsteps. Proko clears his throat behind him. 

“You’re welcome, Lynch.”

“How was the real Declan in here?” 

“You mean like Adam? I have no idea. Why can they come here, but we’re trapped?”

“Because they are still alive, maybe, aren’t we dead?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to meet up with Skov behind our backs,” Kavinsky chimes in, wrapping an arm around Ronan’s neck, pressing lightly against his Adam’s apple. Proko lifts an eyebrow.

“Share with the class, Lynch.”

-

“Adam,” Gansey whispers into his right ear, and the boy’s eyelids flicker open. “Shh. We have to get out of here.” 

Adam quietly follows Gansey out of Declan’s room, a black SUV waiting for them at the curb. Helen Gansey sits behind the wheel, leaning against it while texting. Gansey opens the door, herding Adam inside the backseat and crawling inside behind him. 

“Go.”

“Close the door numbnuts,” Helen replies in a bored tone, composing another text message. 

“Hurry, Helen, please.” Helen turns to look at the two half-naked boys, then sighs while cranking up the heat, before pulling away from the curb. The door whacks Declan’s mailbox, Gansey wincing and pulling it closer to shut. When the car reaches the next street, he finally slams it shut. “Thank God, are you okay, Adam?” 

Adam offers him a perplexed look, “Why?” 

“There’s something seriously wrong with Declan.” Adam ponders which factor Gansey is referring to, debating telling him about the dream, deciding to.

“Look -”

“Look -” 

“You go first,” Gansey counters, Adam nodding. 

“I’ve been seeing Proko, Kavinsky, and Ronan in dreams for a while, and tonight Ronan talked to me for the first time. Declan was there too, and it was turning into a nightmare before I woke up. How do you think this works? Another Declan has been there as well, but not the real one, according to Lynch. I’m sorry for not telling you.” 

“What did Ronan say?” 

“Nothing useful.”

“Ronan called Declan’s cell earlier while you two were -” Gansey clears his throat, “Anyway he says he’s in some dreamscape and doesn’t know how to get out. We have to help him, Adam.”

“I know we do,” Adam says, “But what if we’re too late?” 

“Henrietta, please Helen.” 

“I know,'' she answers, taking a bite out of a McDouble, turning onto the highway. 

Adam is hungry, which he just realized due to the aroma of fries, but he’s been hungry for three months. Trying to understand why Ronan did it. He doesn’t feel much better about himself, Gansey’s arm around his thin shoulders the only thing grounding him to the car. He had missed Ronan so much that he forgot to ask him what to do to help him. Somewhere in that world, Kavinsky is there too, creeping amongst the shadows. He misses that boy too. Gansey dials a number, and barks out orders to meet them at the Lynch’s house. The wind outside picks up, shaking the car, and thunder rumbles through the sky while lightning crashes into trees, tearing them down. It’s storming here in a supernatural manner, and Adam has one guess as to who’s causing it.

-

“Skov should be here,” Ronan pleads, Kavinsky nibbling on an earlobe lazily. Proko stands to his left, arms folded and face alight with anger.

“When were you going to decide to explain Skov and Adam could get here? Did you even try to ask them for help, you moron?” 

“Of course I did,” Ronan replies, pushing Kavinsky’s hand away from the zipper of his jeans, “It’s just that other things got in the way.”

“I can see that,” Proko replies, lip curling up, as his fingers shakily light another cigarette with an ever-presently lit match which still hasn’t burned through his pocket. “I’ve been busy trying to get the hell out of here. And all the two of you have done is swap spit with one another and contract herpes.” 

“I don’t have herpes,” Kavinsky whines, lighting a cigarette himself while a light drizzle sticks to the boys’ clothing. Ronan watches the droplets attempt to take residence on Kavinsky’s tank top, beading on the surface before ultimately dripping off him. “Speaking of walking STDs, look who’s here.”

“Lynch,” Skov trills, and there Gansey is next to him. Gansey.  _ Gansey _ . His brain is going to short-circuit. Adam appears behind Proko and makes a disgruntled expression as the boy lays a hand firmly against his shoulder. “I-”

“Oh please, no one likes a copy,” Declan croons by his left ear, and he turns to watch Declan stab Declan Jr. in the jugular. Thick globs of crimson splatter onto Ronan’s cheeks, Declan laughing while the boy’s hands scramble against his neck for purchase. There are several horrific gasps for breath and a slick sound as the body crumbles against the bare ground. He clears his throat, wiping his blood-drenched hands against his jeans. “There that’s better.” Ronan isn’t sure if he’s talking about his hands or the dead body. 

Skov holds a hand in front of his mouth, making several gagging noises, and Kavinsky cackles obnoxiously. “Jesus, we should have just hired him to gut Lynch.” 

Proko nods appreciatively toward his brother and he himself starts to feel sick, thinking back on finding Rocky in the backyard. 

“It’s never too late,” Proko sneers, “Maybe he’d consider a double hit.” Kavinsky moves closer to Ronan, laughing nervously. 

“Anyway, Ronan, as I was saying before someone rudely, interrupted me,” Declan plucks the cigarette out of Kavinsky’s trembling hand, and Ronan watches his cheeks hollow, “I went to see Dad.”

Ronan backs away, into Proko who shoves him roughly toward Declan’s chest. Ronan trips over his feet and his head falls against Declan’s right shoulder. Declan doesn’t help Ronan steady himself but the boy clings onto his brother’s arms until he can once again stand on his own feet. He blushes when Declan snorts at him.

“Well, Dad always said you were so clumsy, Ro,” Declan states, “No wonder you looked like a trainwreck.”

“You’re a psycho,” Gansey appears, Ronan had forgotten all about their audience, “Stay away from him and Adam.”

“Or what? You’ll tell your daddy? I’m quivering in fear.” 

Declan has never quivered from anything. Ronan calculates how to escape this meeting with an intact neck, as Skov vomits on the ground. Gansey sticks a hand between the two brothers, attempting to pull Ronan away.

“You know Gansey, I’m starting to think you don’t trust me, and I have to admit my feelings are hurt,” Declan gently pushes the boy’s hand away, “I’m talking to Ronan, so run along.”

Ronan wrenches his arm back and pain shoots down to his wrist as he twists it in an unnatural way attempting to leave Declan’s grasp. He’s trapped just as he always was between Declan and his mattress. “Leave me alone, Declan, please.” 

“I can’t,” Declan states with a blank expression, “So the point of the story is, I went to ask Dad if he would help me bring you back. And for some reason, he wasn’t too keen on the idea.”

“Stop talking, it’s so elementary,” Kavinsky replies, and Ronan watches the bloodstain blossom on Declan’s white dress shirt, before his ears register an echo of the bullet leaving the chamber. 

“What the hell did you just do,” Adam cries out reaching forward, attempting to steady Declan, before the boy tumbles to the ground. Ronan desperately wishes that he’ll live, but the blood flowing out of his mouth is a strong opposition to his frail notions of hope. 

“Declan,” Ronan cries out, leaning down and pressing his hand against the wound, “You’ll be fine.” 

Declan emits a pitiful laugh staring up at the boy. “You always were a terrible fucking liar, Ro.”

“Declan - Can you -,” more blood gushes from the wound and he doesn’t know how to stop it, pressing his hand more firmly against it. 

“You’re never going to get out of here Ronan. I asked Dad. You’re dead, all three of you, in a fucked up -,” he groans in pain, “Limbo forever. I’m sorry.” 

“There has to be a way,” Gansey pleads. Declan shakes his head. “What if we -”

Adam drops to his knees, and wails about Kavinsky being a stupid asshole, clutching Declan’s pale hand to his chest. Ronan understands something suddenly, and the wave of shock crashes over him.  _ Declan  _ really was sleeping with him?

“This is so fucked up! I want my goddamn friends back, just tell me what I have to do, please, I’ll do anything,” Skov pleads, gripping onto Ronan’s arm with a sense of animalistic desperation that doesn’t look very good on the boy.

“If we can’t leave, you guys could come here,” Kavinsky whines, “I miss you all. It could be like a happily ever after. Bang,” he points the revolver at Gansey, “Bang,” points it at Skov,  _ Bang _ ,” the revolver is placed gently against Adam’s temple and Ronan can’t bear it any longer.

“No,” Ronan replies, “All of you need to leave, and don’t come back.”

Kavinsky continues as if Ronan never spoke, “We could redecorate, make this trash heap into something livable, breathable. Gansey can be with his princess, I can have Adam back -”

“I’m not leaving Swan and Jiang,” Skov argues, “They’ll wither away.” 

"Then stay behind Skov, I don't care, but they’ll wither away with or without you."

"Declan is fucking dead," Ronan interjects, "Do any of you even care?"

"Not particularly," Kavinsky sneers, "Especially after what you wrote to me."

“When did Ronan write to you,” Proko accuses, “I thought you two didn’t know each other.” 

“I know Ronan very intimately, in fact more intimately then Gansey has cared to,” Ronan offers Kavinsky a pleading look, cocking his head toward Proko. Hoping he won’t betray him,    
“And I bet Skov over there, knows all about it don’t you, pretty boy?”

Most of their eyes turn toward Skov, except for Ronan and Adam. Adam gasps, Declan’s hand clutched against his chest, and Ronan thinks maybe he did it, healed the older boy. Declan’s eyelids flutter open, Ronan holding a finger to his lips.  _ Play dead, _ he mouths, nodding at Adam before standing up. He’s tired of waiting for someone to rescue him, it’s time for him to save his damn self. 

-

Skov watches Ronan fix Declan, rambling on about finding incriminating letters between Kavinsky and Ronan. Alluding to a secret relationship between the two, which had started several years ago, up until Gansey started banging him. The other boys begin to argue insurmantily, Gansey insisting this is bullshit, Kavinsky taunting him about fucking Ronan first. Then suddenly, another bullet leaves the chamber, emerging from Proko’s forehead. All of the air seems to vacate the fairgrounds, until a deafening silence overwhelms the boys. Proko’s body crumples to the ground. 

“You coming with me, or dying, Kavinsky?” 

“Lynch, don’t leave me. Think of everything I’ve done for you.”

Ronan’s lower lip trembles, the revolver pressed against Kavinsky’s forehead. He turns, throwing the gun into the woods behind them. “Fuck this shit, let’s all go home.” 

“How, Ro,” Kavinsky cackles, “We can’t just snap our fingers and -” 

Ronan presses his lips against Kavinsky’s and a loud crash clamors above the boys, when Skov looks up at the sky is ripping apart at the seams. “Take us home, Declan,” Ronan pulls away from the boy, and then he hears Kavinsky whimper in pain. Declan’s stabbed him in the heart. Ronan wails.

“That’s for murdering my brother, and shooting me, you sick fuck. See you in hell.” 

“Betrayed by yet another Lynch,” Kavinsky smiles, “What a fucking beautiful way to go.” 

Everything turns black. 

-

Declan wakes up at the fairgrounds, surrounded by Ronan, Adam, Gansey, and Skov’s bodies scattered around the barren field. He crawls over to Ronan, pressing two fingers against the side of his throat, feeling a weak heart beat. Thank God. He yanks up his shirt, and there’s no bullet wound on his side. He knows Kavinsky shot him, he remembers dying in front of Ronan and Adam. Then he woke up again, and watched Ronan shoot Proko. Something he thought Ronan would never have the balls to do. He killed Kavinsky because there was no way that monster could come back with them. Only room for one. 

Ronan sits up, sputtering a cough, expelling bile and water from his mouth on the cold ground. Declan wraps his coat around Ronan’s thin shoulders. “You’re alive.”

Ronan nods, leaning his forehead against Declan’s shoulder. 

-

It’s been six months since Gansey found Ronan again, and he’s never letting the boy out of his sight again. Ronan's scars are gone, and he looks happier. Lighter, without the weight of Proko or Kavinsky clouding over his days. Gansey and him had a long talk about Kavinsky, although it’s not as if Gansey hadn’t already forgiven him. 

Jiang woke up, shortly after Ronan came back. His parents shipped him back to Henrietta, and now he lives with Skov and Swan in the Lynch house. Ronan lives with him in Monmouth, and Adam moved into Noah's old room. He's glad that Ronan finally left that hell-hole. He brought Ronan to a campaign party, and he was so popular, his mother kept pestering about proposing to the boy. He argued that Ronan already did.

-

Adam has been dating Declan for the past six months, he's never been so happy before with someone. Yesterday, Declan told him he loved him at this super expensive anniversary dinner at some lobster restaurant in D.C. He said it back and they hooked up in Declan’s Volvo before driving him back to Gansey's. 

He's helping Adam apply to Ivy Leagues in the fall, to which he has mysterious connections with several admission counselors. Gansey and Ronan are planning to travel after graduating, probably going to marry each other in Europe or some shit.

Life is really good. And if they can get through what happened to them in the past year, Adam believes anything is possible. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo, i have several fics in the works, so if you like this one, stick around. if you didn't, not all of them will be this dark, so anyway. Thank you if you took the time to read both of these works, which actually consumed my soul.

**Author's Note:**

> You made it! If anyone demonstrates interest, I do have an idea for a sequel for this fic.


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